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Libpar/ of Concirese 

Two Copies Recesved 
AUG 18 1900 

Copynghl entry 

SECOND COPY. 

Oelivemi to 

OROtR DIVISION, 
SEP ' 8 1900 





Copyright, 1900, by W. B. Conkey Company. 



74381 



SAMUEL ROGERS, ESQ. 

THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED 

T.Y 

HIS VERY GRATEFUL AND AFFECTIONATE FRIEND, 

THOMAS MOORE. 



CONTENTS. 



Preface 7 

Lalla Rookh 23 

The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan 30 

Paradise and the Peri 122 

The Fire- Worshipers 148 

The Light of the Haram 224 



PREFACE. 



(written originally for "lalla rookh" in 

THE COLLECTED EDITION OF MOORE's WORKS.) 

The Poem, or Romance, of Lalla Rookh, 
having now reached, I understand, its twen- 
tieth edition, a short account of the origin 
and progress of a work which has been hitherto 
so very fortunate in its course may not be 
deemed, perhaps, superfluous or misplaced. 

It was about the year 1812, that, far more 
through the encouraging suggestions of friends 
than from any confident promptings of my 
own ambition, I conceived the design of writ- 
ing a Poem upon some Oriental subject, and 
of those quarto dimensions which Scott's suc- 
cessful publications in that form had then ren- 
dered the regular poetical standard. A nego- 
tiation on the subject was opened with the 
Messrs. Longman in the same year; but, from 
some causes which I cannot now recollect, led 
to no decisive result; nor was it till a year 
or two after, that any further steps were taken 
in the matter, — their house being the only one, 
it is right to add, with which, from first to last, 
I held any communication upon the subject. 
7 



8 PREFACE. 

On this last occasion, Mr. Perry kindly 
offered himself as my representative in the 
treaty; and, what with the friendly zeal of my 
negotiator on the one side, and the prompt and 
liberal spirit with which ne was met on the 
other, there has seldom, I think, occurred any 
transaction in which Trade and Poesy have 
shone out so advantageously in each other's 
eyes. The short discussion that then took 
place between the two parties, may be com- 
prised in a very few sentences. "I am of 
opinion," said Mr. Perry, — enforcing his view 
of the case by arguments which it is not for me 
to cite, — "that Mr. Moore ought to receive for 
his Poem the largest price that has been given 
in our day, for such a work." "That was," 
answered the Messrs. Longman, "three thou- 
sand guineas." "Exactly so," replied Mr. 
Perry, "and no less a sum ought he to receive." 

It was then objected, and very reasonably, 
on the part of the firm, that they had never 
yet seen a single line of the Poem; and that a 
perusal of the work ought to be allowed to 
them, before they embarked so large a sum in 
the purchase. But, no; — the romantic view 
which my friend Perry took of the matter, was. 
that this price should be given as a tribute to 
reputation already acquired, without any con- 
dition for a previous perusal of the new work. 
This high tone, I must confess, not a little 
startled and alarmed me ; but to the honor and 
glory of Romance, — as well on the publishers* 
side as the poet's, — this very generous view of 
the transaction was, without any difficulty, ac- 



PREFACE. 9 

ceded to, and the firm agreed, before we sepa- 
rated, that I was to receive three thousand 
guineas for my Poem. 

At the time of this agreement, but little of 
the work, as it stands at present, had yet been 
written. But the ready confidence in my suc- 
cess shown by others, made up for the deficiency 
of that requisite feeling within myself; while 
a strong desire not wholly to disappoint this 
'* auguring hope" became almost a substitute 
for inspiration. In the year 1815, therefore, 
having made some progress in my task, I 
wrote to report the state of the work to the 
Messrs. Longman, adding, that I was now 
most willing and ready, should they desire it, 
to submit the manuscript for their considera- 
tion. Their answer to this offer was as fol- 
lows: "We are certainly impatient for the per- 
usal of the Poem ; but solely for our gratifica- 
tion. Your sentiments are always honorable. *'^ 

I continued to pursue my task for another 
year, being likewise occasionally occupied with 
the Irish Melodies, two or three numbers of 
which made their appearance during the period 
employed in writing "Lalla Rookh. " At 
length, in the year 181 6, I found my work 
sufficiently advanced to be placed in the hands 
of the publishers. But the state of distress to 
which England was reduced, in that dismal 
year, by the exhausting effects of the series of 
wars she had just then concluded, and the gen- 
eral embarrassment of all classes, both agricul- 
tural and commercial, rendered it a juncture 

* April 10, 1 81 5. 



10 PREFACE. 

the least favorable that could well be conceived 
for the first launch into print of so light and 
costly a venture as "Lalla Rookh." Feeling 
conscious, therefore, that under such circum- 
stances I should act but honestly in putting it 
in the power of the Messrs. Longman to recon- 
sider the terms of their engagement with me, 
— leaving them free to postpone, modify, or 
even, should such be their wish, relinquish it 
altogether, I wrote them a letter to that effect, 
and received the following answer: "We shall 
be most happy in the pleasure of seeing you in 
February. We agree with you, indeed, that 
the times are most inauspicious for 'poetry and 
thousands;' but we believe that your poetry 
would do more than that of any other living 
poet at the present moment." * 

The length of time I employed in writing the 
few stories strung together in Lalla Rookh will 
appear, to some persons, much more than was 
necessary for the production of such easy and 
"light o' love'* fictions. But, besides that I 
have been, at all times, a far more slow and 
painstaking workman than would ever be 
guessed, I fear, from the result, I felt that, in 
this instance, I had taken upon myself a more 
than ordinary responsibility, from the immense 
stake risked by others on my chance of suc- 
cess. For a long time, therefore, after the 
agreement had been concluded, though gen- 
erally at work with a view to this task, I made 
but very little real progress in it ; and I have 
still by me the beginnings of several stories 

* November 9, i8j6. 



PREFACE. 11 

continued, some of them, to the length of 
three or four hundred lines, which, after in 
vain endeavoring to mould them into shape, I 
threw aside, like the tale of Cambuscan, "left 
half-told. " One of these stories, entitled "The 
Peri's Daughter," was meant to relate the loves 
of a nymph of this aerial extraction with a 
youth of mortal race, the rightful Prince of 
Ormuz, who had been, from his infancy, 
brought up in seclusion, on the banks of the 
river Amou, by an aged guardian named Mo- 
hassan. The story opens with the first meet- 
ing of these destined lovers, then in their child- 
hood; the Peri having wafted her daughter to 
this holy retreat, in a bright, enchanted boat, 
whose first appearance is thus described: — 

For, down the silvery tide afar. 
There came a boat, as swift and bright 

As shines in heav'n, some pilgrim-star, 
That leaves its own high home, at night. 
To shoot to distant shrines of light. 
"It comes, it comes," young Orian cries, 
And panting to Mohassan flies. 
Then, down upon the flowery grass 
Reclines to see the vision pass ; 
With partly joy and partly fear, 
To find its wondrous light so near, 
And hiding oft his dazzled eyes 
Among the flowers on which he lies. 

Within the boat a baby slept. 
Like a young pearl within its shell ; 



12 PREFACE. 

While one, who seem'd of riper years, 
But not of earth, or earth-like spheres, 

Her watch beside the slumberer kept; 

Gracefully waving, in her hand, 
The feathers of some holy bird. 
With which, from time to time, she stirr'd 

The fragrant air, and cooly fann'd 

The baby's brow, or brush'd away 
The butterflies that, bright and blue . 

As on the mountains of Malay, 
Around the sleeping infant flew. 

And now the fairy boat was stopp'd 
Beside the bank, — the nymph 'has dropp'd 
Her golden anchor in the stream ; 



A song is sung by the Peri in approaching, 
of which the following forms a part: — 

My child she is but half divine. 
Her father sleeps in the Caspian water; 
Sea-weeds twine 
His funeral shrine. 
But he lives again in the Peri's daughter. 
Fain would I fly from mortal sight 

To my own sweet bowers of Peristan ; 
But, there, the flowers are all too bright 

For the eyes of baby born of man. 
On flowers of earth her feet must tread ; 
So hither my light-wing'd bark hath 
brought her; 

Stranger, spread 

Thy leafiest bed, 

To rest the wandering Peri's daughter. 



PREFACE. 13 

In another of these inchoate fragments, a 
proud femaie saint, named Banou, plays a 
principal part; and her progress through the 
streets of Cufa, on the night of a great illumi- 
nated festival, I find thus described: 

It was a scene of mirth that drew 

A smile from ev'n the Saint Banou, 

As, through the hush'd, admiring throng, 

She went with stately steps along. 

And counted o'er, that all might see. 

The rubies of her rosary. 

But none might see the worldly smile 

That lurk'd beneath her veil, the while: — 

Alia forbid ! for, who would wait 

Her blessing at the temple's gate, — 

What holy man would ever run 

To kiss the ground she knelt upon. 

If once, by luckless chance, he knew 

She look'd and smil'd as others do? 

Her hands w^ere join'd, and from each wrist 

By threads of pearl and golden twist 

Hung relics of the saints of yore. 

And scraps of talismanic lore, — 

Charms for the old, the sick, the frail, 

Some made for use, and all for sale. 

On either side, the crowd withdrew. 

To let the saint pass proudly through ; 

While turban'd heads of every hue. 

Green, white, and crimson, bow'd around. 

And gay tiaras touch 'd the ground, — 

As tulip-bells, when o'er their beds 

The musk-wind passes, bend their heads. 

Nay, some there were, among the crowd 



U PREFACE. 

Of Moslem heads that round her bow'd, 
So fiU'd with zeal, by many a draught 
Of Shiraz wine profanely quaff 'd, 
That, sinking low in reverence then, 
They never rose till morn again. 

There are yet two more of these unfinished 
sketches, one of which extends to a much 
greater length than I was aware of; and, as 
far as I can judge from a hasty renewal of my 
acquaintance with it, is not incapable of being 
yet turned to account. 

In only one of these unfinished sketches, the 
tale of The Peri's Daughter, had I yet ventured 
to invoke that most home-felt of all my inspi- 
rations, which has lent to the story of The 
Fire-worshippers its main attraction and in- 
terest. That it was my intention, in the con- 
cealed Prince of Ormuz, to shadow out some 
impersonation of this feeling, I take for granted 
from the prophetic words supposed to be ad- 
dressed to him by his aged guardian: — 

Bright child of destiny! even now 
I read the promise on that brow, 
That tyrants shall no more defile 
The glories of the Green Sea Isle, 
But Ormuz shall again be free. 
And hail her native Lord in thee! 

In none of the other fragments do I find any 
trace of this sort of feeling either in the subject 
or the personages of the intended story; and 
this was the reason, doubtless, though hardly 



PREFACE. 15 

known at the time to m5^self, that, finding my 
subjects so slow in kindling my own sympa- 
thies, I began to despair of their ever touching 
the hearts of others ; and felt often inclined to 
say: — 

*'0h, no, I have no voice or hand 
For such a song, in such a land. " 

Had this series of disheartening experiments 
been carried on much further, I must have 
thrown aside the work in despair. But at last, 
fortunately as it proved, the thought occurred 
to me of founding a story on the fierce struggle 
so long maintained between the Ghebers,* or 
ancient Fire-worshippers of Persia, and their 
haughty Moslem masters. From that moment, 
a new and deep interest in my whole task took 
possession of me. The cause of tolerance was 
again my inspiring theme ; and the spirit that 
had spoken in the melodies of Ireland soon 
found itself at home in the East. 

Having thus laid open the secrets of the 
workshop, to account for the time expended in 
writing this work, I must also, in justice to my 
own industry, notice the pains I took in long 
and laboriously reading for it. To form a store- 
house, as it were, of illustration purely Ori- 
ental, and so familiarize myself with its various 
treasures, that, as quick as Fancy required the 
aid of fact, in her spiritings, the memory was 

*Voltaire, in his tragedy of "Les Guebres," v?ritten with a 
similar undercurrent of meaning, was accused of having trans- 
formed his Fire-worshippers into Jansenists. "Quelques figur- 
istes," he saj's, "pretendent que les Guebres sont les Jansen- 
istes." 



16 PREFACE. 

ready, like another Ariel, at her "strong bid- 
ding," to furnish materials for the spell- work, 
— such was, for a long while, the sole object of 
my studies; and whatever time and trouble this 
preparatory process may have cost me, the 
effects resulting from it, as far as the humble 
merit of truthfulness is concerned, have been 
such as to repay me more than sufficiently for 
my pains. I have not forgotten how great was 
my pleasure, when told by the late Sir James 
Mackintosh, that he was once asked by Colonel 

W s, the historian of British India, "whether 

it was true that Moore had never been in the 
East?" "Never," answered Mackintosh. "Well 

that shows me," replied Colonel W s, "that 

reading over D'Herbelot is as good as riding on 
the back of a camel." 

I need hardly subjoin to this lively speech, 
that, although D'Herbelot's valuable work was, 
of course, one of my manuals, I took the whole 
range of all such Oriental reading as was acces- 
sible to me; and became, for the time, indeed, 
far more conversant with all relating to that 
distant region, than I have ever been with the 
scenery, productions, or modes of life of any of 
those countries lying most within my reach. 
We know that D'Anville, though never in his 
life out of Paris, was able to correct a number 
of errors in the plan of the Troad taken by 
De Choiseul, on the spot ; and for my own very 
different, as well as far inferior, purposes, the 
knowledge I had thus acquired of distant local- 
ities, seen only by me in my day-dreams, was 
no less ready and useful. 



PREFACE. 17 

An ample reward for all this painstaking has 
been found in such welcome tributes as I have 
just now cited ; nor can I deny myself the grat- 
ification of citing a few more of the same 
description. From another distinguished au- 
thority on Eastern subjects, the late Sir John 
Malcolm, I had myself the pleasure of hearing 
a 'similar opinion publicly expressed; — that 
eminent person, in a speech spoken by him at 
a Literary Fund Dinner, having remarked, 
that together with those qualities of a poet 
which he much too partially assigned to me 
was combined also "the truth of the his- 
torian." 

Sir William Ouseley, another high authority, 
in giving his testimony to the same effect, thus 
notices an exception to the general accuracy 
for which he gives me credit: *' Dazzled by the 
beauties of this composition,* few readers can 
perceive, and none surely can regret, that the 
poet, in his magnificent catastrophe, has for- 
gotten, or boldly and most happily violated, 
the precept of Zoroaster, above noticed, which 
held it impious to consume any portion of a 
human body by fire, especially by that which 
glowed upon their altars. ' ' Having long lost, I 
fear, most of my Eastern learning, I can only 
cite, in defense of my catastrophe, an old 
Oriental tradition, which relates that Nimrod, 
when Abraham refused, at his command, to 
worship the fire, ordered him to be thrown into 



*The Fire-worshippers. 



18 PREFACE. 

the midst of the flames.* A precedent so 
ancient for this sort of use of the worshipped 
element would appear, for all purposes at least 
of poetry, fully sufficient. 

In addition to these agreeable testimonials, I 
have also heard, and need hardly add, with 
some pride and pleasure, that parts of this work 
have been rendered into Persian, and have 
found their way to Ispahan. To this fact, as I 
am willing to think it, allusion is made in 
some lively verses, written many years since, 
by my friend Mr. Luttrell: — 

*'I'm told, dear Moore, your lays are sung, 
(Can it be true, you lucky man?) 

By moonlight, in the Persian tongue, 
Along the streets of Ispahan." 

That some knowledge of the work may have 
really reached that region appears not improb- 
able from a passage in the Travels of Mr. 
Frazer, who says, that "being delayed for 
some time at a town on the shores of the Cas- 
pian, he was lucky enough to be able to amuse 
himself with a copy of 'Lalla Rookh,' which a 
Persian had lent him." 

Of the description of Balbec, in "Paradise 
and the Peri," Mr. Carne, in his "Letters from 
the East," thus speaks: "The description in 
'Lalla Rookh' of the plain and its ruins is ex- 
quisitely faithful. The minaret is on the de- 



*"Tradunt autetn Hebrsei banc fabulam, quod Abraham in 
igmen missus sit, quia ignem adorare noluit."— St. Hieron in 
Qusest, in Genesim. 



PREFACE. 19 

clivity near at hand, and there wanted only the 
muezzin's cry to break the silence." 

I shall now tax my reader's patience with 
but one more of these generous vouchers. 
Whatever of vanity there may be in citing such 
tributes, they show, at least, of what great val- 
ue, even in poetry, is that prosaic quality, in- 
dustry ; since, as the reader of the foregoing 
pages is now fully apprised, it was in a slow 
and laborious collection of small facts, that the 
first foundations of this fanciful Romance were 
laid. 

The friendly testimony I have just referred 
to, appeared, some years since, in the form in 
which I now give it, and, if I recollect right, 
in the Athenseum: — 

"I embrace this opportunity of bearing my individual 
testimony (if it be of any value) to the extraordinary 
accuracy of Mr. Moore, in his topographical, antiqua- 
rian, and characteristic details, whether of costume, man- 
ners, or less changing monuments, both in his 'Lalla 
Rookh' and in the Epicurean. It has been my fortune 
to read his Atlantic, Bermudean, and American Odes 
and Epistles, in the countries and among the people to 
which and to whom they related ; I enjoyed also the 
exquisite delight of reading his 'Lalla Rookh,' in Persia 
itself; and I have perused the Epicurean, while all my 
recollections of Egvpt and its still existing wonders are 
as fresh as when I quitted the banks of the Nile for 
Arabia:— I owe it, therefore, as a debt of gratitude 
(though the payment is most inadequate), for the great 
pleasure I have derived from his productions, to bear my 
humble testimony to their local fidelity. "J. S. B." 

Among the incidents connected with this 
work, I must not omit to notice the splendid 
Divertissement, founded upon it, which was 



20 PREFACE. 

acted at the Chateau Royal of Berlin, during 
the visit of the Grand Duke Nicholas to that 
capital, in the year 1822. The different stories 
composing the work were represented in Tab- 
leaux Vivans and songs; and among the 
crowd of royal and noble personages engaged 
in the performances, I shall mention those only 
who represented the principal characters, and 
whom I find thus enumerated in the published 
account of the Divertissement.* 

Besides these and other leading personages, 
there were also brought into action, under the 
various denominations of Seigneurs et Dames 
de Bucharie, Dames de Cachemire, Seigneurs 
et Dames dansants a la Fete des Roses, etc., 
nearly 150 persons. 

Of the manner and style in which the Tab- 
leaux of the different stories are described in 
the work from which I cite, the following ac- 
count of the performance of Paradise and the 
Peri will afford some specimen: — 

"La decoration representait les portes bril- 
lantes du Paradis, entourees de nuages. Dans 
le premier tableau on voyait la Peri, triste et 
desolee, couchee sur le seuil des portes fer- 
mees, et I'Ange de lumiere qui lui adresse des 

*Lalla Roukh, Divertissement meles de Chants et de Danses. 
Berlin, 1822. The work contains a series of colored engravings, 
representing groups, processions, etc., in different Oriental cos- 
tumes. 
" Fadladin, Grand-Nasir . . Comte Haack (Marechal de Cour). 

Aliris, Roi de Bucharie . . S. A. I. le Grand-Due. 

Lalla Roukh S. A. I. la Grande-Duchesse. 

Aurungzeb, le Grand Mo- < S. A. R. le Prince Guillaume, frere 
gol I du Roi 

Abdallah, Pere d'Aliris . . S. A. R. le Due de Cumberland. 

La Reine, son epouse . . S. A. R. la Princesse Louise Rad- 

zivill." 



PREFACE. 21 

consolations et des conseils. Le second rep- 
resente le moment ou la Peri, dans I'espoir 
que ce don lut ouvrira 1' entree du Paradis, 
recueille la derniere goutte de sang que vient 
de verser le jeune guerrier indien. 

"La Peri et I'Ange de lumiere repondaient 
pleinement a Timage et a I'idee qu'on est tente 
de se faire de ces deux individus, et I'impres- 
sion qu'a faite generalement la suite des tab- 
leaux de cet episode delicat et interessant est 
loin de s'effacer de notre souvenir." 

In this grand Fete, it appears, originated the 
translation of "Lalla Rookh" into German* 
verse, by the Baron de la Motte Fouque; and 
the circumstances which led him to undertake 
the task, are described by himself in a Dedi- 
catory Poem to the Empress of Russia, which 
he has prefixed to his translation. As soon as 
the performance, he tells us, had ended, Lalla 
Rookh (the Empress herself) exclaimed, with 
a sigh, *'Is it, then, all over? Are we now at 
the close of all that has given us so much de- 
light? and lives there no poet who will impart 
to others, and to future times, some notion of 
the happiness we have enjoyed this evening?" 
On hearing this appeal, a Knight of Cashmere 
(who is no other than the poetical Baron him- 
self) comes forward and promises to attempt to 
present to the world "the Poem itself in the 
measure of the original:" — whereupon Lalla 
Rookh, it is added, approvingly smiled. 

*Since this was written, another translation of "Lalla Rookh" 
into German verse has been made by Theodor Oelckers (Leip- 
zig, Tauchnitz). 



LALLA ROOKH 



In the eleventh year of the reign of Aurung- 
zebe, Abdalla, King of the Lesser Bucharia, a 
lineal descendant from the Great Zingis, hav- 
ing abdicated the throne in favor of his son, 
set out on a pilgrimage to the Shrine of the 
Prophet; and, passing into India through the 
delightful valley of Cashmere, rested for a 
short time at Delhi on his way. He was en- 
tertained by Aurungzebe in a style of magnifi- 
cent hospitality, worthy alike of the visitor and 
the host, and was afterwards escorted with the 
same splendor to Surat, where he embarked 
for Arabia. I During the stay of the Royal 
Pilgrim at Delhi, a marriage was agreed upon 
between the Prince, his son, and the ^^oungest 
daughter of the emperor, Lalla Rookh -^ — a 
Princess described by the Poets of her time as 
more beautiful than Leila, 3 Shirine,4 De- 
wilde,5 or any of those heroines whose names 
and loves embellish the songs of Persia and 
Hindostan. It was intended that the nuptials 
should be celebrated at Cashmere ; where the 
young King, as soon as the cares of empire 
would permit, was to meet, for the first time, 
his lovely bride, and, after a few months' re- 
23 



24 LALLA ROOKH. 

pose in that enchanting valley, conduct her 
over the snowy hills into Bucharia. 

The day of Lalla Rookh's departure from 
Delhi was as splendid as sunshine and pag- 
eantry could make it. The bazaars and baths 
were all covered with the richest tapestry; 
hundreds of gilded barges upon the Jumna 
floated with their banners shining in the water; 
while through the streets groups of beautiful 
children went strewing the most delicious flow- 
ers around, as in that Persian festival called 
the Scattering of the Roses ;^ till every part of 
the city was as fragrant as if a caravan of musk 
from Khoten had passed through it. The 
Princess, having taken leave of her kind father, 
who at parting hung a cornelian of Yemen 
round her neck, on which was inscribed a 
verse from the Koran, and having sent a con- 
siderable present to the Fakirs, who kept up 
the Perpetual Lamp in her sister's tomb, 
meekly ascended the palankeen prepared for 
her; and, while Aurungzebe stood to take a 
last look from his balcony, the procession 
moved slowly on the road to Lahore. 

Seldom had the Eastern world seen a caval- 
cade so superb. From the gardens in the sub- 
urbs to the imperial palace, it was one un- 
broken line of splendor. The gallant appear- 
ance of the Rajah and Mogul Lords, distin- 
guished by those insignia of the Emperor's 
favor, 7 the feathers of the egret of Cashmere 
in their turbans, and the small silver-rimmed 
kettledrums at the bows of their saddles ; — the 
costly armor of their cavaliers, who vied, on 



LALLA ROOKH. 25 

this occasion, with the guards of the great Ke- 
der Khan, 8 in the brightness of their silver 
battle-axes and the massiness of their maces of 
gold; — the glittering of the gilt pine-apples 9 on 
the tops of the palankeens ; — the embroidered 
trappings of the elephants, bearing on their 
backs small turrets, in the shape of little an- 
tique temples, within which the Ladies of Lalla 
Rookh lay as it were enshrined ; — the rose-col- 
ored veils of the Princess' own sumptuous lit- 
ter, i° at the front of which a fair young female 
slave sat fanning her through the curtains, 
with feathers of the Argus pheasant's wing;" 
— and the lovely troop of Tartarian and Cash- 
merian maids of honor, whom the young King 
had sent to accompany his bride, and who rode 
on each side of the litter, upon small Arabian 
horses: — all was brilliant, tasteful, and mag- 
nificent, and pleased even the critical and fas- 
tidious Fadladeen, Great Nazir or Chamberlain 
of the Haram, who was borne in his palankeen 
immediately after the Princess, and consid- 
ered himself not the least important personage 
of the pageant. 

Fadladeen was a judge of everything, — from 
the penciling of a Circassian's eyelids to the 
deepest questions of science and literature; 
from the mixture of a conserve of rose-leaves 
to the composition of an epic poem ; and such 
influence had his opinion upon the various 
tastes of the day, that all the cooks and poets 
of Delhi stood in awe of him. His political 
conduct and opinions were founded upon that 
line of Sadi. — "Should the Prince at noon-day 



26 LALLA ROOKH. 

say, It is night, declare that 3'ou behold 
the moon and stars." — And his zeal for relig- 
ion, of which Aurungzebe was a munificent 
protector, 12 was about as disinterested as that 
of the goldsmith who fell in love with the dia- 
mond eyes of the Idol of Jaghernaut.i3 

During the first days of their journey, Lalla 
Rookh, who had passed all her life within the 
shadow of the Royal Gardens of Delhi, ^4 found 
enough in the beauty of the scenery through 
which they passed to interest her mind, and 
delight her imagination; and when at evening 
or in the heat of the day, they turned off from 
the high-road to those retired and romantic 
places which had been selected for her en- 
campments, sometimes on the banks of a small 
rivulet, as clear as the waters of the Lake of 
Pearl ;^5 sometimes under the sacred shade of 
a Banyan tree, from which the view opened 
upon a glade covered with antelopes ; and often 
in those hidden, embowered spots, described 
by one from the Isles of the West,i^ as "places 
of melancholy, delight, and safety, where all 
the company around were wild peacocks and 
turtle-doves;" — she felt a charm in these 
scenes so lovely and so new to her, which, for 
a time, made her indifferent to every pther 
amusement. But Lalla Rookh was young, and 
the young love variety; nor could the conver- 
sation of her Ladies and the Great Chamber- 
lain, Fadladeen (the only persons, of course, 
admitted to her pavilion), sufficiently enliven 
those many vacant hours, which were devoted 
neither to the pillow nor the palankeen. There 



LALLA ROOKH. 27 

was a little Persian slave who sung sweetly to 
the Vina, and who, now and then, lulled the 
Princess to sleep with the ancient ditties of her 
country, about the loves of Wamak and Ezra, ^7 
the fair-haired Zal and his mistress Rodahver ;^^ 
not forgetting- the combat of Rustam with the 
terrible White Demon. ^9 At other times she 
was amused by those graceful dancing-girls of 
Delhi, who had been permitted by the Bramins 
of the Great Pagoda to attend her, much to the 
horror of the good Mussulman Fadladeen, who 
could see nothing graceful or agreeable in idol- 
aters, and to whom the very tinkling of their 
golden anklets^o was an abomination. 

But these and many other diversions were 
repeated till they lost all their charm, and the 
nights and noon-days were beginning to move 
heavily, when, at length, it was recollected 
that, among the attendants sent by the bride- 
groom, w^as a young poet of Cashmere, much 
celebrated throughout the valley for his man- 
ner of reciting the Stories of the East, on 
whom his Royal Master had conferred the 
privilege of being admitted to the pavilion of 
the Princess, that he might help to beguile the 
tediousness of the journey by some of his 
agreeable recitals. At the mention of a poet, 
Fadladeen elevated his critical eyebrows, and, 
having refreshed his faculties with a dose of 
that delicious opium^i which is distilled from 
the black poppy of the Thebais, gave orders 
for the minstrel to be forthwith introduced 
into the presence. 

The Princess, who had once in her life seen 



28 LALLA ROOKH. 

a poet from behind the screens of gauze in her 
Father's hall, and had conceived from that 
specimen no very favorable ideas of the Caste, 
expected but little in this new exhibition to in- 
terest her ; — she felt inclined, however, to alter 
her opinion on the very first appearance of 
Feramorz. He was a youth about Lalla 
Rookh's own age, and graceful as that idol of 
women, Crishna,22 — such as he appears to 
their young imaginations, heroic, beautiful, 
breathing music from his very eyes, and exalt- 
ing the religion of his worshippers into love. 
His dress was simple, yet not without some 
marks of costliness; and the Ladies of ,the 
Princess were not long in discovering that the 
cloth which encircled his high Tartarian cap 
was of the most delicate kind that the shawl- 
goats of Tibet supply. 23 Here and there, too, 
over his vest, which was confined by a flow- 
ered girdle of Kashan, hung strings of fine 
pearl, disposed with an air of studied negli- 
gence: — nor did the exquisite embroidery of 
his sandals escape the observation of these 
fair critics; who, however they might give way 
to Fadladeen upon the unimportant topics of 
religion and government, had the spirit of 
martyrs in everything relating to such moment- 
ous matters as jewels and embroidery. 

For the purpose of relieving the pauses of 
recitation by music, the young Cashmerian 
held in his hand a kitar; — such as, in old 
times, the Arab maids of the West used to lis- 
ten to by moonlight in the gardens of the Al- 
hambra — and having promised, with much hu- 



LALLA ROOKH. 29 

mility, that the story he was about to relate 
was founded on the adventures of that Veiled 
Prophet of Khorassan24 who, in the year of the 
Hegira i6,3 created such alarm throughout the 
Eastern Empire, made an obeisance to the 
Princess, and thus began : — 



30 LALLA ROOKH. 



THE VEILED PROPHET OF KHORAS- 

SAN.25 

In that delightful Province of the Sun, 
The first of Persian lands he shines upon, 
Where all the loveliest children of his beam, 
Flow'rets and fruits, blush over every stream. 26 
And, fairest of all streams, the Murg-a roves 
Among Merou's 27 bright palaces and groves ;— 
There on that throne, to which the blind belief 
Of millions rais'd him, sat the Prophet-Chief, 
The Great Mokanna. O'er his features hung 
The Veil, the Silver Veil, which he had flung 
In mercy there, to hide from mortal sight 
His dazzling brow, till man could bear its light. 
For, far less luminous, his votaries said. 
Were ev'n the gleams, miraculously shed 
O'er Moussa's^s cheek, 29 when down the Mount 

he trod. 
All glowing from the presence of his God ! 

On either side, with ready hearts and hands. 
His chosen guard of bold Believers stands; 
Young fire-eyed disputants, who deem their 

swords. 
On points of faith, more eloquent than words ; 
And such their zeal, there's not a youth with 

brand 



LALLA ROOKH. 31 

Uplifted there, but, at the Chief's command, 
Would make his own devoted heart its sheath, 
And bless the lips that doom'd so dear a death ! 
In hatred to the Caliph's hue of night. 3o 
Their vesture, helms and all, is snowy white; 
Their weapons various — some equipp'd for 

speed. 
With javelins of the light Kathaian reed, -31 
Or bows of buffalo horn and shining quivers 
Fill'd with the stems 32 that bloom on Iran's 

rivers ;33 
While some, for war's more terrible attacks. 
Wield the huge mace and ponderous battle- 
axe; 
And as they wave aloft in morning's beam 
The milk-white plumage of their helms, they 

seem 
Like a chenar-tree grove, 34 when winter throws 
O'er all its tufted heads his feathering snows. 

Between the porphyry pillars, that uphold 
The rich moresque-work of the roof of gold, 
Aloft the Haram's curtain'd galleries rise. 
Where, through the silken network, glancing 

eyes, 
From time to time, like sudden gleams that 

glow 
Through autumn clouds, shine o'er the pomp 

below. — 
What impious tongue, ye blushing saints, 

would dare 
To hint that aught but Heaven hath placed you 

there? 
Or that the loves of this light world could bind, 



32 LALLA ROOKH. 

In their gross chain, your Prophet's soaring 

mind? 
No — wrongful thought! — commission'd from 

above 
To people Eden's bowers with shapes of love, 
(Creatures so bright, that the same lips and 

eyes 
They wear on earth will serve in Paradise,) 
There to recline among Heaven's native maids, 
And crown the Elect with bliss that never 

fades — 
Well hath the Prophet-Chief his bidding done; 
And every beauteous race beneath the sun. 
From those who kneel at Brahma's burning 

founts, 35 
To the fresh nymphs bounding o'er Yemen's 

mounts ; 
From Persia's eyes of full and fawn-like ray 
To the small, half-shut glances of Kathay;36 
And Georgia's bloom, and Azab's darker 

smiles, 
And the gold ringlets of the Western Isles; 
All, all are there ; — each Land its flower hath 

given, 
To form that fair young Nursery for Heaven ! 



But why this pageant now? this arm'd array? 
What triumph crowds the rich Divan to-day 
With turban'd heads, of every hue and race. 
Bowing before that veil'd and awful face, 
Like tulip-beds, 37 of different shape and dyes, 
Bending beneath the invisible West-wind's 
sighs ! 



LALLA ROOKH. 33 

What new-made mystery now, for Faith to 

sign, 
And blood to seal, as genuine and divine, 
What dazzling mimicry of God's own power 
Hath the bold Prophet plann'd to grace this 

hour? 

Not such the pageant now, though not less 
proud ; 
Yon warrior youth, advancing from the crowd, 
With silver bow, with belt of broider'd crape, 
And fur-bound bonnet of Bucharian shape,38 
So fiercely beautiful in form and eye, 
Like war's wild planet in a summer sky; 
That youth to-day — a proselyte, worth hordes 
Of cooler spirits and less practiced swords — 
Is come to join, all bravery and belief. 
The creed and standary of the heaven-sent 
Chief. 

Though few his years, the West already 

knows 
Young Azim's fame; — beyond the Olympian 

snows. 
Ere manhood darken'd o'er his downy cheek, 
O'erwhelm'd in fight and captive to the 

Greek, 39 
He linger'd there, till peace dissolv'd his 

chains ; — 
Oh, who could, even in bondage, tread the 

plains 
Of glorious Greece, nor feel his spirit rise 
Kindling within him? who, with heart and eyes, 
Could walk where Liberty had been, nor see 

8 



84 LALLA ROOKH. 

The shining footprints of her Deity, 
Nor feel those godlike breathings in the air, 
Which mutely told her spirit had been there? 
Not he, that youthful warrior, — no, too well 
For his soul's quiet work'd the awakening 

spell ; 
And now, returning to his own dear land, 
Full of those dreams of good that, vainly grand, 
Haunt the young heart, — proud views of 

humankind, 
Of men to Gods exalted and refined, — 
False views, like that horizon's fair deceit, 
Where earth and heaven but seem, alas, to 

meet! — 
Soon as he heard an Arm Divine was rais'd 
To right the nations, and beheld, emblaz'd 
On the white flag Mokanna's host unfurl'd, 
Those words of sunshine, "Freedom to the 

World," 
At once his faith, his sword, his soul obey'd 
The inspiring summons; every chosen blade 
That fought beneath that banner's sacred text 
Seem'd doubly edg'd, for this world and the 

next; 
And ne'er did Faith with her smooth bandage 

bind 
Eyes more devoutly willing to be blind. 
In virtue's cause ; — never was soul inspir'd 
With livelier trust in what it most desir'd. 
Than his, the enthusiast there, who kneeling, 

pale 
With pious awe, before that Silver Veil, 
Believes the form, to which he bends his knee, 
Some pure, redeeming angel, sent to free 



LALLA ROOKH. 35 

This fetter'd world from every bond and stain, 
And bring its primal glories back again! 

Low as young Azim knelt, that motley crowd 
Of all earth's nations sunk the knee and bow'd, 
With shouts of ''Alia!" echoing long and loud; 
While high in air, above the Prophet's head, 
Hundreds of banners, to the sunbeam spread, 
Wav'd, like the wings of the white birds that 

fan 
The flying throne of star-taught Soliman.40 
Then thus he spoke: — "Stranger, though new 

the frame 
Thy soul inhabits now, I've track 'd its flame 
For many an age, 41 in every chance and change 
Of that existence, through whose varied 

range,— 

As though a torch-race, where, from hand to 

hand. 
The flying youths transmit their shining 

brand, — 
From frame to frame the unextinguish'd soul 
Rapidly passes, till it reach the goal ! 

*' Nor think 'tis only the gross Spirits, warm'd 
With duskier fire and for earth's medium 

form'd. 
That run this courage; — Beings, the most 

divine. 
Thus deign through dark mortality to shine. 
Such was the Essence that in Adam dwelt, 
To which all Heaven, except the Proud One, 

knelt: 42 
Such the refin'd Intelligence that glow'd 



36 LALLA ROOKH. 

In Moussa's 43 frame, — and, thence descending, 

flow'd 
Through many a Prophet's breast: 44 — in Issa 45 

shone, 
And in Mohammed burn'd; till, hastening on, 
(As a bright river that, from fall to fall 
In many a maze descending, bright through 

all, 
Finds some fair region where, each labyrinth 

past, 
In one full lake of light it rests at last!) 
That Holy Spirit, settling calm and free 
From lapse or shadow, centers all in me!" 

Again, throughout the assembly, at these 

words, 
Thousands of voices rung: the warriors' swords 
Were pointed up to heaven ; a sudden wind 
In the open banners play'd, and from behind 
Those Persian hangings, that but ill could 

screen 
The Haram's loveliness, white hands were 

seen 
Waving embroider' d scarves, whose motion 

gave 
A perfume forth ; — like those the Houris wave 
When beck'ning to their bowers the immortal 

Brave. 

*'But these," pursued the Chief, "are truths 
sublime. 
That claim a holier mood and calmer time 
Than earth allows us now ; — this sword must 
first 



LALLA ROOKH. 37 

The darkling prison-house of Mankind burst 
Ere Peace can visit them, or Truth let in 
Her wakening daylight on a world of sin. 
But then, celestial warriors, then, when all 
Earth's shrines and thrones before our banner 

fall; 
When the glad Slave shall at these feet lay 

down 
His broken chain, the tyrant Lord his crown, 
The Priest his book, the Conqueror his wreath. 
And from the lips of Truth one mighty breath 
Shall, like a whirlwind, scatter in its breeze 
That whole dark pile of human mockeries; — 
Then shall the reign of mind commence on 

earth. 
And starting fresh, as from a second birth, 
Man, in the sunshine of the world's new spring. 
Shall walk transparent, like some holy thing! 
Then, too, your Prophet from his angel brow 
Shall cast the Veil that hides his splendors 

now. 
And gladden 'd Earth shall, through her wide 

expanse. 
Bask in the glories of this countenance ! 
For thee, young warrior, welcome! — thou hast 

yet 
Some tasks to learn, some frailties to forget. 
Ere the white war-plume o'er thy brow can 

wave ; — 
But, once my own, mine all till in the grave!" 

The pomp is at an end — the crowds are 
gone — 
Each ear and heart still haunted by the tone 



88 LALLA ROOKH. 

Of that deep voice, which thrill'd like Alla's 

own! 
The Young all dazzled by the plumes and 

lances, 
The glittering throne, and Haram's half -caught 

glances ; 
The Old deep pondering on the promis'd reign 
Of peace and truth ; and all the female train 
Ready to risk their eyes, could they but gaze 
A moment on that brow's miraculous blaze! 

But there was one, among the chosen maids. 
Who blush'd behind the gallery's silken 

shades. 
One, to whose soul the pageant of to-day 
Has been like death : — you saw her pale dismay. 
Ye wondering sisterhood, and heard the burst 
Of exclamation from her lips, when first 
She saw that youth, too well, too dearly known, 
Silently kneeling at the Prophet's throne. 

Ah Zelica! there was a time, when bliss 
Shone o'er thy heart from every look of his; 
When but to see him, hear him, breathe the air 
In which he dwelt, was thy soul's fondest 

prayer ; 
When round him hung such a perpetual spell, 
Whate'er he did none ever did so well. 
Too happy days! when, if he touch'd a flower 
Or gem of thine, 'twas sacred from that hour; 
When thou didst study him till every tone 
;^nd gesture and dear look became thy own, — 
Thy voice like his, the changes of his face 
In thine reflected with still lovelier grace : 



LALLA ROOKH. 39 

Like echo, sending back sweet music, fraught 
With twice the aerial sweetness it had brought! 
Yet now he comes, — brighter than even he 
E'er beam'd before, — but, ah! not bright for 

thee; 
No — dread, unlook'd for, like a visitant 
From the other world, he comes as if to haunt 
Thy guilt}^ soul with dreams of lost delight. 
Long lost to all but memory's aching sight: — 
Sad dreams! as when the Spirit of our Youth 
Returns in sleep, sparkling with all the truth 
And innocence once ours, and leads us back, 
In mournful mockery, o'er the shining track 
Of our young life, and points out every ray 
Of hope and peace we've lost upon the way! 

Once happy pair; — in proud Bokhara's 

groves. 
Who had not heard of their first youthful loves? 
Born by that ancient flood, 46 which from its 

spring 
In the dark Mountains swiftly wandering. 
Enrich 'd by every pilgrim brook that shines 
With relics from Bucharia's ruby mines, 
And lending to the Caspian half its strength, 
In the cold Lake of Eagles shinks at length; 
There, on the banks — of that bright river 

born. 
The flowers, that hung above its wave at mom, 
Bless'd not the waters, as they murmur'd by. 
With holier scent and lustre, than the sigh 
And virgin-glance of first affection cast 
Upon their youth's smooth current, as it pass'd ! 
But war disturb 'd this vision, — far away 



40 LALLA ROOKH. 

From her fond eyes summon 'd to join the array 
Of Persia's warriors on the hills of Thrace, 
The youth exchang'd his sylvan dwelling-place 
For the rude tent and war-field's deathful 

clash ; 
His Zelica's sweet glances for the flash 
Of Grecian wild-fire, and Love's gentle chains 
For bleeding bondage on Byzantium's plains. 

Month after month, in widowhood of soul 
Drooping, the maiden saw two summers roll 
Their suns away — but ah ! how cold and dim 
Even summer suns, when not beheld with him ! 
From time to time ill-omen'd rumors came, 
Like spirit-tongues mutt'ring the sick man's 

name, 
Just ere he dies : — at length those sounds of 

dread 
Fell withering on her soul, "Azim is dead!** 
Oh Grief, beyond all other griefs, when fate 
First leaves the young heart lone and desolate 
In the wide world, without that only tie 
For which it lov'd to live or fear'd to die; — 
Lorn as the hung-up lute, that ne'er hath 

spoken 
Since the sad day its master-chord was broken ! 
Fond maid, the sorrow of her soul was such. 
Even reason sunk, — blighted beneath its 

touch : 
And though, ere long, her sanguine spirit rose 
Above the first dead pressure of its woes, 
Though health and bloom return'd, the dehcate 

chain 
Of thought, once tangled, never clear'd again. 



LALLA ROOKH. 41 

Warm, lively, soft as in youth's happiest day, 
The mind was still all there, but turn'd astray ; 
A wand'ring bark, upon whose pathway shone 
All stars of heaven, except the guiding one ! 
Again she smil'd, nay, much and brightly 

smil'd, 
But 'twas a lustre, strange, unreal, wild ; 
And when she sung to her lute's touching 

strain, 
'Twas like the notes, half ecstasy, half pain, 
The bulbul 47 utters, ere her soul depart. 
When, vanquish'd by some minstrel's powerful 

art, 
She dies upon the lute whose sweetness broke 

her heart! 

Such was the mood in which that mission 

found 
Young Zelica, — that mission, which around 
The Eastern world, in every region blest 
With woman's smile, sought out its loveliest. 
To grace that galaxy of lips and eyes 
Which the Veil'd Prophet destin'd for the 

skies: — 
And such quick welcome as a spark receives 
Dropp'd on a bed of Autumn's wither'd leaves, 
Did every tale of these enthusiasts find 
In the wild maiden's sorrow-blighted mind. 
All fire at once the madd'ning zeal she 

caught ; — 
Elect of Paradise! blest, rapturous thought! 
Predestin'd bride, in heaven's eternal dome, 
Of some brave youth — ha! durst they say "of 

some?" 



42 LALLA ROOKH. 

No — of the one, one only object trac'd 
In her heart's core too deep to be effac'd; 
The one whose memory, fresh as life, is twin'd 
With every broken link of her lost mind; 
Whose image lives, though Reason's self be 

wreck'd. 
Safe 'mid the ruins of her intellect! 

Alas, poor Zelica! it needed all 
The fantasy which held thy mind in thrall, 
To see in that gay Haram's glowing maids 
A sainted colony for Eden's shades; 
Or dream that he, — of whose unholy flame 
Thou wert too soon the victim, — shining came 
From Paradise, to people its pure sphere 
With souls like thine, which he hath ruin'd 

here! 
No — had not Reason's light totally set, 
And left thee dark, thou hadst an amulet 
In the lov'd image, graven on thy heart, 
Which would have sav'd thee from the temp- 
ter's art, 
And kept alive, in all its bloom of breath, 
That purity, whose fading is love's death! — 
But lost, inflamed, — a restless zeal took place 
Of the wild virgin's still and feminine grace; 
First of the Prophet's favorites, — proudly first 
In zeal and charms, — too well the Impostor 

nurs'd 
Her soul's delirium, in whose active flame, 
Thus lighting up a young, luxuriant frame, 
He saw more potent sorceries to bind 
To his dark yoke the spirits of mankind, 
More subtle chains than hell itself e'er twin'd. 



LALLA ROOKH. 43 

No art was spar'd, no witchery; — all the skill 
His demons taught him was employ'd to fill 
Her mind with gloom and ecstasy by turns — 
That gloom, through which Frenzy but fiercer 

burns ; 
That ecstasy, which from the depth of sadness 
Glares like the maniac's moon, whose light is 

madness. 

'Twas from a brilliant banquet, where the 

sound 
Of poesy and music breath 'd around. 
Together picturing to her mind and ear 
The glories of that heaven, her destin'd sphere, 
Where all was pure, where every stain that lay 
Upon the spirit's light should pass away. 
And realizing more than youthful love 
E'er wish'd or dreamed, she should forever 

rove 
Through fields of fragrance by her Azim's side. 
His own bless'd, purified, eternal bride! — 
'Twas from a scene, a witching trance like this, 
He hurried her away, yet breathing bliss, 
To the dim charnel-house; — through all its 

steams 
Of damp and death, led only by those gleams 
Which foul Corruption lights, as with design 
To show the gay and proud, she too can 

shine ! — 
And, passing on through upright ranks of Dead, 
Which to the maiden, doubly craz'd by dread, 
Seem'd, through the bluish death-light round 

them cast. 
To move their lips in mutterings as she pass'd — 



44 LALLA ROOKH. 

There, in that awful place, when each had 

quaff'd 
And pledged in silence such a fearful draught, 
Such — oh! the look and taste of that red bowl 
Will haunt her till she dies — he bound her soul 
By a dark oath, in hell's own language fram'd, 
Never, while earth his mystic presence claim'd, 
While the blue arch of day hung o'er them 

both, 
Never, by that all-imprecating oath, 
In joy or sorrow from his side to sever. — 

She swore, and the wide charnel echoed, 
"Never, never!" 
From that dread hour, entirely, wildly given 
To him and — she believ'd, lost maid! — to 

Heaven; 
Her brain, her heart, her passions all inflam'd, 
How proud she stood, when in full Haram 

nam'd 
The Priestess of the Faith! — how flash'd her 

eyes 
With light, alas! that was not of the skies, 
When round, in trances, only less than hers, 
She saw the Haram kneel, her prostrate wor- 
shippers! 
Well might Mokanna think that form alone 
Had spells enough to make the world his own : — 
Light, lovely limbs, to which the spirit's play 
Gave motion, airy as the dancing spray, 
When from its stem the small bird wings away : 
Lips in whose rosy labyrinth, when she smil'd, 
The soul was lost ; and blushes, swift and wild 
As are the momentary meteors sent 



LALLA ROOKH. 45 

Across the uncalm, but beauteous firmament. 
And then her look — oh! where's the heart so 

wise 
Could unbewilder'dmeet those matchless eyes? 
Quick, restless, strange, but exquisite withal. 
Like those of angels, just before their fall; 
Now shadow'd with the shames of earth — now 

crost 
By glimpses of the heaven her heart had lost ; 
In ev'ry glance there broke, without control, 
The flashes of a bright but troubled soul, 
Where sensibility still wildly play'd, 
Like lightning, round the ruins it had made ! 

And such was now young Zelica — so chang'd 
From her who, some years since, delighted 

rang'd 
The almond groves that shade Bokhara's tide. 
All life and bliss, with Azim by her side ! 
So alter'd was she now, this festal day, 
When, 'mid the proud Divan's dazzling array, 
The vision of that Youth whom she had lov'd. 
Had wept as dead, before her breath'd and 

mov'd; — 
When — bright, she thought, as if from Eden's 

track 
But half-way trodden, he had wander'd back 
Again to earth, glistening with Eden's light — 
Her beauteous Azim shone before her sight. 

O Reason ! who shall say what spells renew. 
When least we look for it, thy broken clew ! 
Through what small vistas o'er the darken'd 
brain 



46 LALLA ROOKH. 

Thy intellectual day-beam bursts again ; 

And how, like forts, to which beleaguerers win 

Unhop'd-for entrance through some friend 

within. 
One clear idea, waken'd in the breast 
By memory's magic, lets in all the rest! 
Would it were thus, unhappy girl, with thee! 
But though light came, it came but partially; 
Enough to show the maze in which thy sense 
Wander'd about, — but not to guide it thence ; 
Enough to glimmer o'er the yawning wave. 
But not to point the harbor which might save. 
Hours of delight and peace, long left behind. 
With that dear form came rushing o'er her 

mind; 
But, oh ! to think how deep her soul had gone 
In shame and falsehood since those moments 

shone ; 
And, then, her oath — there madness lay again. 
And, shuddering, back she sunk into her chain 
Of mental darkness, as if blest to flee 
From light, whose every glimpse was agony ! 
Yet one relief this glande of former years 
Brought, mingled with its pain. — tears, floods 

of tears, 
Long frozen at her heart, but now like rills 
Let loose in spring-time from the snowy hills, 
And gushing warm, after a sleep of frost. 
Through valleys where their flow had long 

been lost. 

Sad and subdued, for the first time her frame 
Trembled with horror, when the summons came 
(A summons proud and rare, which all but she, 



LALLA ROOKH. 47 

And she till now, had heard with ecstasy) 

To meet Mokanna at his place of prayer, 

A garden oratory, cool and fair, 

By the stream's side, where still at close of 

day 
The Prophet of the Veil retir'd to pray; 
Sometimes alone — but, oftener far, with one, 
One chosen nymph to share his orison. 

Of late none found such favor in his sight 
As the young Priestess; and though, since 

that night 
When the death-caverns echoed every tone 
Of the dire oath that made her all his own, - 
The Impostor, sure of his infatuate prize. 
Had, more than once, thrown off his soul's dis- 
guise, 
And utter'd such unheavenly, monstrous 

things, 
As even across the desp'rate wanderings 
Of a weak intellect, whose lamp was out, 
Threw startling shadows of dismay and 

doubt ; — 
Yet zeal, ambition, her tremendous vow. 
The thought, still haunting her, of that bright 

brow, 
Whose blaze, as yet from mortal eye conceal'd, 
Would soon, proud triumph! be to her re- 

veal'd, 
To her alone ; — and then the hope, most dear. 
Most wild of all, that her transgression here 
Was but a passage through earth's grosser fire, 
From which the spirit would at last aspire. 
Even purer than before. — as perfumes rise 



48 LALLA ROOKH. 

Through flame and smoke, most welcome to 

the skies — 
And that when Azim's fond, divine embrace 
Should circle her in heaven, no dark'ning trace 
Would on that bosom he once lov'd remain, 
But all be bright, be pure, be his again ! — 
These were the wildering dreams, whose curst 

deceit 
Had chain'd her soul beneath the tempter's 

feet, 
And made her think even damning falsehood 

sweet. 
But now that Shape, which had appall 'd her 

view, 
That Semblance — oh, how terrible, if true! — 
Which came across her frenzy's full career 
With shock of consciousness, cold, deep, severe, 
As when, in northern seas, at midnight dark, 
An isle of ice encounters some swift bark. 
And, startling all its wretches from their 

sleep. 
By one cold impulse hurls them to the deep ; — 
So came that shock not frenzy's self could 

bear. 
And waking up each long-lull'd image there. 
But check 'd her headlong soul, to sink it in 

despair! 

Wan and dejected, through the evening 
dusk. 
She now went slowly to that small kiosk, 
Where, pondering alone his impious schemes, 
Mokanna waited her — too rapt in dreams 
Of the fair-rip 'ning future's rich success, 



LALLA ROOKH. 49 

To heed the sorrow, pale and spiritless, 
That sat upon his victim's downcast brow, 
Or mark how slow her step, how alter'd now 
From the quick, ardent Priestess, whose light 

bound 
Came like a spirit's o'er the unechoing" 

ground, — 
From that wild Zelica, whose every glance 
Was thrilling fire, whose every thought a 

trance ! 

Upon his couch the Veil'd Mokanna lay. 
While lamps around — not such as lend their 

ray, 
Glimmering and cold, to those who nightly 

pray 
In holy Koom,48or Mecca's dim arcades, — 
But brilliant, soft, such lights as lovely maids 
Look loveliest in, shed their luxurious glow 
Upon his mystic Veil's white glittering flow. 
Beside him, 'stead of beads and books of 

prayer. 
Which the world fondly thought he mus'd on 

there. 
Stood vases, fill'd with Kishmee's 49 golden 

wine, 
And the red weepings of the Shiraz vine; 
Of which his curtain'd lips full many a draught 
Took zealously, as if each drop they quaff'd. 
Like Zemzem's Spring of Holiness, 5° had 

power 
To freshen the soul's virtues into flower! 
And still he drank and ponder 'd — nor could 

see 
4 



50 LALLA ROOKH. 

The approaching- maid, so deep his reverie ; 
At length, with fiendish laugh, like that which 

broke 
From Eblis at the Fall of Man, he spoke: — 
"Yes, ye vile race, for hell's amusement given. 
Too mean for earth, but claiming kin with 

heaven; 
God's images, forsooth! — such Gods as he 
Whom India serves, the monkey deity; 5i — 
Ye creatures of a breath, proud things of clay, 
To whom if Lucifer, as grandams say, 
Refus'd, though at the forfeit of heaven's 

light. 
To bend in worship, Lucifer was right ! 52 — 
Soon shall I plant this foot upon the neck 
Of your foul race, and without fear or check, 
Luxuriating in hate, avenge my shame, 
My deep-felt, long-nurst loathing of man's 

name; 
Soon at the head of myriads, blind and fierce 
As hooded falcons, through the universe 
I'll sweep my dark'ning, desolating way. 
Weak man my instrument, curst man my prey! 

"Ye wise, ye learn 'd, who grope your dull 
way on 
By the dim twinkling gleams of ages gone. 
Like superstitious thieves, who think the light 
From dead men's marrow guides them best at 

night 53 — 
Ye shall have honors — wealth, — yes, Sages, 

yes — 
I know, grave fools, your wisdom's nothing- 
ness; 



LALLA ROOKH. 51 

Undazzled it can track yon starry sphere, 
But a gilt stick, a bauble blinds it here. 
How I shall laugh, when trumpeted along, 
In lying speech, and still more lying song, 
By these learn'd slaves, the meanest of the 

throng ; 
Their wits brought up, their wisdom shrunk 

so small, 
A sceptre's puny point can wield it all! 

"Ye too, believers of incredible creeds, 
Whose faith enshrines the monsters which it 

breeds; 
Who, bolder even than Nemrod, think to rise, 
By nonsense heap'd on nonsense, to the skies; 
Ye shall have miracles, ay, sound ones too, 
Seen, heard, attested, ev'ry thing — but true. 
Your preaching zealots, too inspir'd to seek 
One grace of meaning for the things they 

speak ; 
Your martyrs, ready to shed out their blood 
For truths too heavenly to be understood; 
And your State Priests, sole vendors of the lore 
That works salvation ; — as, on Ava's shore. 
Where none but priests are privileg'd to trade 
In that best marble of which Gods are made; 54 
They shall have mysteries — ay, precious stuff 
For knaves to thrive by — mysteries enough ; 
Dark, tangled doctrines, dark as fraud can 

weave. 
Which simple votaries shall on trust receive. 
While craftier feign belief, till they believe. 
A Heaven too ye must have, ye lords of dust, — 
A splendid Paradise, — pure souls, ye must : 



12 LALLA ROOKH. 

That Prophet ill sustains his holy call, 

Who finds not heavens to suit the tastes of all ; 

Houris for boys, omniscience for sages, 

And wings and glories for all ranks and ages. 

Vain things! — as lust or vanity inspires. 

The Heaven of each is but what each desires, 

And, soul or sense, whate'er the object be, 

Man would be man to all eternity! 

So let him — Eblis! grant this crowning curse, 

But keep him what he is, no Hell were worse. " 

*'Oh my lost soul!" exclaim 'd the shudder- 
ing maid, 
Whose ears had drunk like poison all he said : — ■ 
Mokanna started — notabash'd, afraid, — 
He knew no more of fear than one who dwells 
Beneath the tropics knows of icicles! 
But in those dismal words that reach'd his ear, 
"Oh my lost soul!" there was a sound so drear. 
So like that voice, among the sinful dead. 
In which the legend o'er Hell's Gate is read. 
That, new as 'twas from her, whom nought 

could dim 
Or sink till now, it startled even him. 

*'Ha, my fair Priestess!" — thus, with ready 

wile. 
The impostor turn'd to greet her— "thou, 

whose smile 
Hath inspiration in its rosy beam 
Beyond the Enthusiast's hope or Prophet's 

dream ! 
Light of the faith! who twin'st religion's zeal 



LALLA ROOKH. 63 

So close with love 'Sf men know not which they 

feel, 
Nor which to sigh for, in their trance of heart, 
The heaven thou preachest or the heaven thou 

art! 
What should I be without thee? without thee 
How dull were power, how joyless victory! 
Though borne by angels, if that smile of thine 
Bless'd not my banner, 'twere but half divine. 
But — why so mournful, child? those eyes, that 

shone 
All life last night — what! — is their glory gone? 
Come, come — this morn's fatigue hath made 

them pale. 
They want rekindling — suns themselves would 

fail, 
Did not their comets bring, as I to thee, 
From light's own fount supplies of brilliancy. 
Thou see'st this cup — no juice of earth is here, 
But the pure waters of that upper sphere. 
Whose rills o'er ruby beds and topaz flow. 
Catching the gem's bright color as they go. 
Nightly my Genii come and fill these urns — 
Nay, drink — in every drop life's essence burns; 
'Twill make that soul all fire, those eyes all 

light- 
Come, come, I want thy loveliest smiles to- 
night: — 
There is a youth — why start? — thou saw'st him 

then; 
Look'd he not nobly? such the godlike men 
Thou'lt have to woo thee in the bowers 

above; — 



54 LALLA ROOKH. 

Though he, I fear, hath thoughts too sern for 

love, 
Too rul'd by that cold enemy of bliss 
The world calls virtue — we must conquer 

this;— 
Nay, shrink not, pretty sage! 'tis not for thee 
To scan the mazes of Heaven's mystery: 
The steel must pass through fire, ere it can 

yield 
Fit instruments for mighty hands to wield. 
This very night I mean to try the art 
Of powerful beauty on that warrior's heart. 
All that my Haram boasts of bloom and wit, 
Of skill and charms, most rare with exquisite, 
Shall tempt the boy; — young Mirzala's blue 

eyes, 
Whose sleepy lid like snow on violets lies; 
Arouya's cheeks, warm as a spring-day sun, 
And lips that, like the seal of Solomon, 
Have magic in their pressure; Zeba's lute. 
And Lilla's dancing feet, that gleam and shoot 
Rapid and white as sea-birds o'er the deep — 
All shall combine their witching powers to 

steep 
My convert's spirit in that soft'ning trance. 
From which to heaven is but the next ad- 
vance ; 
That glowing, yielding fusion of the breast, 
On which Religion stamps her image best. 
But hear me. Priestess! — though each nymph 

of these 
Hath some peculiar, practis'd power to please, 
Some glance or step which, at the mirror tried, 
First charms herself, then all the world beside; 



LALLA ROOKH. 55 

There still wants one, to make the victory 

sure. 
One who in every look joins every lure; 
Through whom all beauty's beams concentred 

pass, 
Dazzling and warm, as through love's burning 

glass ; 
Whose gentle lips persuade without a word, 
Whose words, ev'n when unmeaning, are ador'd 
Like inarticulate breathings from a shrine, 
Which our faith takes for granted are divine! 
Such is the nymph we want, all warmth and 

light. 
To crown the rich temptations of to-night : 
Such the refin'd enchantress that must be 
This hero's vanquisher, — and thou art she!" 

With her hands clasp'd, her lips apart and 
pale. 

The maid had stood, gazing upon the Veil 

From which these words, like south winds 
through a fence 

Of Kerzrah flowers, came fill'd with pesti- 
lence; ^5 

So boldly utter'd too! as if all dread 

Of frowns from her, of virtuous frowns, were 
fled, 

And the wretch felt assur'd that, once plung'd 
in, 

Her woman's soul would know no pause in 
sin! 

At first, though mute she listen 'd, like a 
dream 



56 LALLA ROOKH. 

Seem'd all he said: nor could her mind, whose 

beam 
As yet was weak, penetrate half his scheme. 
But when, at length, he utter'd, "Thou art 

she!" 
All flash'd at once, and shrieking piteously, 
"Oh not for worlds!" she cried — "Great God! 

to whom 
I once knelt innocent, is this my doom? 
Are all my dreams, my hopes of heavenly bliss, 
My purity, my pride then come to this, — 
To live, the wanton of a fiend ! to be 
The pander of his guilt — oh infamy ! 
And sunk, myself, as low as hell can steep 
In its hot flood, drag others down as deep ! 
Others — ha! yes — that youth who came to- 
day — 
Not him I lov'd — not him — oh! do but say, 
But swear to me this moment 'tis not he. 
And I will serve, dark fiend, will worship even 
thee!" 

"Beware, young raving thing! — in time be- 
ware, 
Nor utter what I cannot, must not hear, 
Even from thy lips. Go — try thy lute, thy 

voice. 
The boy must feel their magic ; — I rejoice 
To see those fires, no matter whence they rise, 
Once more illumining my fair Priestess' eyes; 
And should the youth, whom soon those eyes 

shall warm, 
Indeed resemble thy dead lover's form. 
So much the happier wilt thou find thy doom, 



LALLA ROOKH. 57 

As one warm lover, full of life and bloom, 
Excels ten thousand cold ones in the tomb. 
Nay, nay, no frowning, sweet! — those ej^es 

were made 
For love, not anger — I must be obey'd. " 

*'Obey'd! — 'tis well — yes, I deserve it all — 
On me, on me Heaven's vengeance cannot fall 
Too heavily — but Azim, brave and true 
And beautiful — must he be ruin'd too? 
Must he too, glorious as he is, be driven 
A renegade like me from Love and Heaven? 
Like me? — weak wretch, I wrong him — not 

like me; 
No — he's all truth and strength and purity! 
Fill up your madd'ning hell-cup to the brim. 
Its witch'ry, fiends, will have no charm for 

him. 
Let loose your glowing wantons from their 

bowers. 
He loves, he loves, and can defy their powers ! 
Wretch as I am, in his heart still I reign 
Pure as when first we met, without a stain ! 
Though ruin'd — lost — my memory,like a charm 
Left by the dead, still keeps his soul from 

harm. 
Oh ! never let him know how deep the brow 
He kiss'd at parting is dishonor'd now; — 
Ne'er tell him how debas'd, how sunk is she, 
Whom once he lov'd — once — still loves dot- 

ingly, 
Thoulaugh'st, tormentor — what! thou'lt brand 

my name? 
Do, do— in vain — he'll not believe my shame — 



68 LALLA ROOKH. 

He thinks me true; that nought beneath God's 

sky- 
Could tempt or change me, and — so once 

thought I. 
But this is past — though worse than death my 

lot, 
Than hell — 'tis nothing while he knows it not. 
Far off to some benighted land I'll fly, 
Where sunbeam ne'er shall enter till I die; 
Where none will ask the lost one whence she 

came, 
But I may fade and fall without a name. 
And thou — curst man or fiend, whate'er thou 

art. 
Who found'st this burning plague-spot in my 

heart, 
And spread'st it — oh, so quick! — through soul 

and frame. 
With more than demon's art, till I became 
A loathsome thing, all pestilence, all flame ! — 
If when I'm gone " 

"Hold, fearless maniac, hold. 
Nor tempt mv rage — by Heaven, not half so 

bold 
The puny bird, that dares with teasing hum 
Within the crocodile's stretch'd jaws to come!56 
And so thou'lt fly, forsooth? — wliati — give up 

all 
Thy chaste dominion in the Haram Hall, 
Where now to Love and now to Alia given, 
Half mistress and half saint, thou hang'st as 

even 



LALLA ROOKH. 59 



As doth Medina's tomb, 'twixt hell and heav- 



en 



Thou'lt fly! — as easily may reptiles run, 
The gaunt snake once hath fix'd his eyes upon; 
As easily, when caught, the prey may be 
Pluck'd from his loving folds, as thou from me. 
No, no, 'tis fix'd — let good or ill betide, 
Thou'rt mine till death, till death Mokanna's 

bride ! 
Hast thou forgot thy oath?" — 

At this dread word. 
The Maid, whose spirit his rude taunts had 

stirr'd 
Through all its depth, and rous'd an anger 

there. 
That burst and lighten 'd ev'n through her des- 
pair — 
Shrunk back, as if a blight were in the breath 
That spoke that word, and stagger'd, pale as 
death. 

"Yes, my sworn bride, let others seek in 

bowers 
Their bridal place — the charnel vault was ours! 
Instead of scents and balms, for thee and me 
Rose the rich steams of sweet mortality; 
Gay, flickering death-lights shone while we 

were wed. 
And, for our guests, a row of goodly Dead, 
(Immortal spirits in their time, no doubt,) 
From reeking shrouds upon the rite look'd out! 
That oath thou heard'st more lips than thine 

repeat — 



60 LALLA ROOKH. 

That cup — thou shudd'rest, Lady, — was it 

sweet? 
That cup we pledg'd, the charnel's choicest 

wine, 
Hath bound thee — ay, body and soul all mine ; 
Bound thee by chains that, whether blest or 

curst 
No matter now, not hell itself shall burst! 
Hence, woman, to the Haram, and look gay, 
Look wild, look — anything but sad ; yet stay — ■ 
One moment more — from what this night hath 

pass'd, 
I see thou know'st me, know'st me well at 

last. 
Ha! ha! and so, fond thing, thou thought'st all 

true. 
And that I love mankind? — I do, I do — 
As victims, love them ; as the sea-dog doats 
Upon the small, sweet fry that round him 

floats. 
Or, as the Nile-bird loves the slime that gives 
That rank and venomous food on which she 

lives! 57 — 

"And, now thou see'st my soul's angelic hue, 
'Tis time these features were uncurtain'd too : — 
This brow, whose light — oh rare celestial 

light! 
Hath been reserv'd to bless thy favor'd sight; 
These dazzling eyes, before whose shrouded 

might 
Thou'st seen immortal Man kneel down and 

quake — 



LALLA ROOKH. 61 

Would that they were heaven's lightnings for 

his sake! 
But turn and look — then wonder, if thou willt, 
That I should hate, should take revenge, by 

guilt, 
Upon the hand, whose mischief or whose mirth 
Sent me thus maim'd and monstrous upon 

earth ; 
And on that race who, though more vile they 

be 
Than mowing apes, are demi-gods to me ! 
Here — judge if hell, with all its power to damn, 
Can add one curse to the foul thing I am!" 

He rais'd his veil — the Maid turn'd slowly 
round, 
Look'd at him — shriek'd — and sunk upon the 
ground ! 

On their arrival, next night, at the place of 
encampment, they were surprised and de- 
lighted to find the groves all around illumi- 
nated ; some artists of Yamtcheou 58 having been 
sent on previously for the purpose. On each 
side of the green alley, which led to the Royal 
Pavilion, artificial sceneries of bamboo-work 59 
were erected, representing arches, minarets, 
and towers, from which hung thousands of 
silken lanterns, painted by the most delicate 
pencils of Canton. Nothing could be more 
beautiful than the leaves of the mango-trees 
and acacias, shining in the light of the bam- 
boo-scenery, which shed a lustre round as soft 
as that of the nights of Peristan. 



62 LALLA ROOKH. 

Lalla Rookh, however, who was too much 
occupied by the sad story of Zelica and her 
lover, to give a thought to anything else, ex- 
cept, perhaps, him who related it, hurried on 
through this scene of splendor to her pavilion, 
— greatly to the mortification of the poor art- 
ists of Yamtcheou, — and was followed with 
equal rapidity by the Great Chamberlain, curs- 
ing, as he went, that ancient Mandarin, whose 
parental anxiety in lighting up the shores of 
the lake, where his beloved daughter had wan- 
dered and been lost, was the origin of these 
fantastic Chinese illuminations.^ 

Without a moment's delay, young Feramorz 
was introduced, and Fadladeen, who could 
never make up his mind as to the merits of a 
poet till he knew the religious sect to which he 
belonged, was about to ask him whether he 
was a Shia or a Sooni, when Lalla Rookh im- 
patiently clapped her hands for silence, and 
the youth, being seated upon the musnud near 
her, proceeded: — 

Prepare thy soul, young Azim! — thou hast 

brav'd 
The bands of Greece, still mighty though en- 

slav'd; 
Hast faced her phalanx, arm'd with all its 

fame. 
Her Macedonian pikes and globes of flame; 
All this hast fronted, with firm heart and brow, 
But a more perilous trial w^aits thee now, — 
Woman's bright eyes, a dazzling host of eyes 
From every land where woman smiles or sighs; 



LALLA ROOKH. 63 

Of every hue, as Love may chance to raise 
His black or azure banner in their blaze ; 
And each sweet mode of warfare, from the flash 
That lightens boldly through the shadowy lash, 
To the sly, stealing splendors, almost hid, 
Like swords half-sheath 'd, beneath the down- 
cast lid : — 
Such, Azim, is the lovely, luminous host 
Now led against thee; and, let conquerors 

boast 
Their fields of fame, he who in virtue arms 
A 5^oung, warm spirit against beauty's charms, 
Who feels her brightness, yet defies her thrall. 
Is the best, bravest conqueror of them all. 

Now, through the Haram chambers, moving 

lights 
And busy shapes proclaim the toilet's rites; — 
From room to room the ready handmaids hie, 
Some skill'd to wreathe the turbaa tastefully, 
Or hang the veil, in negligence of shade. 
O'er the warm blushes of the youthful maid, 
Who, if between the folds but one eye shone. 
Like Seba's Queen could vanquish with that 

one :^^ — 
While some bring leaves of Henna, to imbue 
The fingers' ends with a bright roseate hue, 62 
So bright, that in the mirror's depth they seem 
Like tips of coral branches in the stream ; 
And others mix the Kohol's jetty dye, 
To give that long, dark languish to the eye,63 
Which makes the maids, whom kings are proud 

to cull 
From fair Circassia's vales, so beautiful. 



64 LALLA ROOKH. 

All is in motion ; rings and plumes and pearls 
Are shining everywhere : — some younger girls 
Are gone by moonlight to the garden beds, 
To gather fresh, cool chaplets for their heads ; — 
Gay creatures! sweet, though mournful, 'tis to 

see 
How each prefers a garland from that tree 
Which brings to mind her childhood's innocent 

day. 
And the dear fields and friendships far away. 
The maid of India, blest again to hold 
In her full lap the Champac's leaves of gold,^ 
Thinks of the time when, by the Ganges' flood, 
Her little playmates scatter'd many a bud 
Upon her long black hair, with glossy gleam 
Just dripping from the consecrated stream ; 
While the young Arab, haunted by the smell 
Of her own mountain flowers, as by a spell, — 
The sweet Elcaya,65 and that courteous tree 
Which bows to all who seek its canopy,^ 
Sees, call'd up round her by these magic scents, 
The well, the camels, and her father's tents; 
Sighs for the home she left with little pain, 
And wishes even its sorrows back again ! 

Meanwhile, through vast illuminated halls, 
Silent and bright, where nofiing but the falls 
Of fragrant waters, gushing vith cool sound 
From many a jasper fount, is heard around, 
Young Azim roams bewilder'd, — nor can guess 
What means this maze of light and loneliness. 
Here, the way leads, o'er tesselated floors 
Or mats of Cairo, through long corridors. 
Where, ranged in cassolets and silver urns, 




He sank upon a couch." — Page 68. 

Lalla Kookh. 



LALLA ROOKH. 65 

Sweet wood of aloe or of sandal burns ; 
And spicy rods, such as illume at night 
The bowers of Tibet, ^7 send forth odorous 

light. 
Like Peris' wands, when pointing out the road 
For some pure Spirit to its blest abode: — 
And here, at once, the glittering saloon 
Bursts on his sight, boundless and bright as 

noon; 
Where, in the midst, reflecting back the rays 
In broken rainbows, a fresh fountain plays 
High as the enamell'd cupola, which towers 
All rich with Arabesques of gold and flowers: 
And the mosaic floor beneath shines through 
The sprinkling of that fountain's silv'ry dew. 
Like the wet, glistening shells, of every dye, 
That on the margin of the Red Sea lie. 

Here, too, he traces the kind visitings 
Of woman's love in those fair, living things 
Of land and wave, whose fate — in bondage 

thrown 
For their weak loveliness — is like her own ! 
On one side gleaming with a sudden grace 
Through water, brilliant as the crystal vase 
In which it undulates, small fishes shine, 
Like golden ingots from a fairy mine ; — 
While, on the other, latticed lightly in 
With odoriferous woods of Comorin,^^ 
Each brilliant bird that wings the air is seen ; — 
Gay, sparkling loories, such as gleam between 
The crimson blossoms of the coral tree ^9 
In the warm Isles of India's sunn)'' sea: 
Mecca's blue sacred pigeon, "° and the thrush 
s 



66 LALLA ROOKH. 

Of Hindostan,^^ whoscholy warblings g"ush, 
At evening, from the tall pagoda's top; — 
Those golden birds that, in the spice-time, drop 
About the gardens, drunk with that sweet 

food 72 
Whose scent hath lur'd them o'er the summer 

flood; 73 
And those that under Araby's soft sun 
Build their high nests of budding cinnamon :74 
In short, all rare and beauteous things, that fly 
Through the pure element, here calmly lie 
Sleeping in light, like the green birds 75 that 

dwell 
In Eden's radiant fields of asphodel! 

So on, through scenes past all imagining, 
More like the luxuries of that impious King,76 
Whom Death's dark angel, with his lightning 

torch, 
Struck down and blasted even in Pleasure's 

porch 
Than the pure dwelling of a Prophet sent, 
Arm'd with Heaven's sword, for man's enfran- 
chisement — 
Young Azim wander 'd. looking sternly round, 
His simple garb and war-boots' clanking sound 
But ill according with the pomp and grace 
And silent lull of that voluptuous place. 

*'Is this, then," thought the youth, "is this 

the way 

To free man's spirit from the dead'ning sway 

Of worldly sloth, — to teach him, while he lives, 

To know no bliss but that which virtue gives, 



LALLA ROOKH. 67 

And, when he dies, to leave his lofty name 
A light, a landmark on the cliffs of fame? 
It was not so, Land of the generous thought 
And daring deed, thy godlike sages taught; 
It was not thus, in bowers of wantan ease, 
Thy Freedom nurs'd her sacred energies; 
Oh! not beneath the enfeebling, withering 

glow 
Of such dull luxury, did those myrtles grow. 
With which she wreath'd her sword, when she 

would dare 
Immortal deeds; but in the bracing air 
Of toil, — of temperance, — of that high, rare. 
Ethereal virtue, which alone can breathe 
Life, health, and lustre into Freedom's wreath. 
Who, that surveys this span of earth we 

press, — 
This speck of life in time's great wilderness. 
This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless seas, 
The past, the future, two eternities! — 
Would sully the bright spot, or leave it bare. 
When he might build him a proud temple there, 
A name, that long shall hallow all its space. 
And be each purer soul's high resting-place? 
But no — it cannot be, that one, whom God 
Hath sent to break the wizard Falsehood's 

rod, — 
A Prophet of the Truth, whose mission draws 
Its rights from Heaven, should thus profane its 

cause 
With the world's vulgar pomp; — no, no, — I 

see — 
He thinks me weak — this glare of luxury 
Is but to tempt, to try the eaglet gaze 



68 LALLA ROOKH. 

Of my young soul — shine on, 'twill stand the 
blaze!" 

So thought the youth ; — but, ev'n while he 

defied 
This witching scene, he felt its witchery glide 
Through ev'ry sense. The perfume breathing 

round, 
Like a pervading spirit; — the still sound 
Of falling waters, lulling as the song 
Of Indian bees at sunset, when they throng 
Around the fragrant Nilica, and deep 
In its blue blossoms hum themselves to sleep ;^ 
And music, too — dear music! that can touch 
Beyond all else the soul that loves it much — 
Now heard far off, so far as but to seem 
Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream ; 
All was too much for him, too full of bliss. 
The heart could nothing feel, that felt not 

this; 
Soften 'd he sank upon a couch, and gave 
His soul up to sweet thoughts, like wave on 

wave 
Succeeding to smooth seas, when storms are 

laid; 
He thought of Zelica ; his own dear maid, 
And of the time when, full of blissful sighs, 
They sat and look'd into each other's eyes, 
Silent and happy — as if God had given 
Nought else worth looking at on this side 

heaven. 

*'Oh, my lov'd mistress, thou, whose spirit 
still 



LALLA ROOKH. 69 

Is with me, round me, wander where I will — 

It is for thee, for thee alone I seek 

The paths of glory ; to light up thy cheek 

With warm approval — in that gentle look 

To read my praise, as in an angel's book, 

And think all toils rewarded, when from thee 

I gain a smile worth immortality! 

How shall I bear the moment when restor'd 

To that young heart where I alone am Lord, 

Though of such bliss unworthy, — since the best 

Alone deserve to be the happiest; — 

When from those lips, unbreath'd upon for 

years, 
I shall again kiss off the soul-felt tears, 
And find those tears warm as when last they 

started. 
Those sacred kisses pure as when we parted? 
O my own life! — why should a single day, 
A moment, keep me from those arms away?" 

While thus he thinks, still nearer on the 
breeze 
Come those delicious, dream-like harmonies. 
Each note of which but adds nev»r, downy links 
To the soft chain in which his spirit sinks. 
He turns him tow'rd the sound, and far away 
Through a long vista, sparkling with the play 
Of countless lamps, — like the rich track which 

Day 
Leaves on the waters, when he sinks from us. 
So long the path, its light so tremulous; — 
He sees a group of female forms advance, 
Some chain 'd together in the mazy dance 
By fetters, forged in the green sunny bowers, 



70 LALLA ROOKH. 

As they were captives to the King of Flowers ;78 
And some disporting round, tinlink'd and free, 
Who seem'd to mock their sister's slavery; 
And round and round them still, in wheeling 

flight, 
Bent, like gay moths about a lamp at night ; 
While others walk'd, as gracefully along 
Their feet kept time, the very soul of song, 
From psaltery, pipe, and lutes of heavenly 

thrill, 
Or their own youthful voices, heavenlier still. 
And now they come, now pass before his eye. 
Forms such as Nature moulds, when she would 

vie 
With Fancy's pencil, and give birth to things, 
Lovely beyond its fairest picturings. 
Awhile they dance before him. then divide, 
Breaking, like rosy clouds at even-tide 
Around the rich pavilion of the sun, — 
Till silently dispersing, one by one 
Through many a path, that from the chamber 

leads 
To gardens, terraces, and moonlight meads. 
Their distant laughter comes upon the wind, 
And but one trembling nymph remains behind, 
Beck'ning them back in vain, for they are 

gone. 
And she is left in all that light alone ; 
No veil to curtain o'er her beauteous brow, 
In its young bashfulness more beauteous now; 
But a light golden chain-work round her hair, 79 
Such as the maids of Yezd ^° and Shiras wear, 
From which, on either side, gracefully hung 
A golden amulet, in the Arab tongue 



LALLA ROOKH. 71 

Engraven o'er with some immortal line 
From Holy Writ, or bard scarce less divine ; 
While her left hand, as shrinkingly she stood, 
Held a small lute of gold and sandal-wood, 
Which, once or twice, she touch 'd with hurried 

strain. 
Then took her trembling fingers off again. 
But when at length a timid glance she stole 
At Azim, the sweet gravity of soul 
She saw through all his features calm'd her 

fear. 
And, like a half-tam'd antelope, more near, 
Though shrinking still, she came; — then sat 

her down 
Upon a musnud's^^ edge, and, bolder grown. 
In the pathetic mood of Isfahan 82 
Touch'd a preluding strain, and thus began: 



There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's^ 
stream. 
And the nightingale sings round it all the 
day long : 
In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet 
dream. 
To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song. 

That bower and its music I never forget, 
But oft when alone in the bloom of the year, 

I think — is the nightingale singing there yet? 
Are the roses still bright by the calm 
Bendemeer? 

No, the roses soon wither'd that hung o*er the 
wave. 



•rg LALLA ROOKH. 

But some blossoms were gather 'd, while 

freshly they shone, 
And a dew was distill'dfrom their flowers, that 

gave 
All the fragrance of summer, when summer 

was gone. 

Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, 

An essence that breathes of it many a year ; 

Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my 

eyes. 

Is that bower on the banks of the calm Ben- 

demeer. 

*'Poor maiden!" thought the youth, "if thou 
wert sent, 
With thy soft lute and beauty's blandishment, 
To wake unholy wishes in this heart, 
Or tempt its truth, thou little know'st the art. 
For though thy lip should sweetly counsel 

wrong, 
Those vestal eyes would disavow its song. 
But thou hast breath'dsuch purity, thy lay 
Returns so fondly to youth's virtuous day, 
And leads thy soul — if e'er it wander 'd thence — 
So gently back to its first innocence, 
That I would sooner stop the unchain'd dove, 
When swift returning to its home of love, 
And round its snowy wings new fetters twine. 
Than turn from virtue one pure wish of thine !" 

Scarce had this feeling pass*d, when, spark- 
ling through 
The gently open'd curtains of light blue 



LALLA ROOKH. 73 

That veil'd the breezy casement, countless 

eyes, 
Peeping like stars through the blue evening 

skies, 
Look'd laughing in, as if to mock the pair 
That sat so still and melancholy there : — 
And now the curtains fly apart, and in 
From the cool air, 'mid showers of jessamine 
Which those without fling after them in play, 
Two lightsome maidens spring, — ^lightsome as 

they 
Who live in the air on odors, — and around 
The bright saloon, scarce conscious of the 

ground. 
Chase one another, in a varying dance 
Of mirth and languor, coyness and advance, 
Too eloquently like love's warm pursuit: — 
While she, who sung so gently to the lute 
Her dream of home, steals timidly away. 
Shrinking as violets do in summer's ray, — 
But takes with her from Azim's heart that sigh 
We sometimes give to forms that pass us by 
In the world's crowd, too lovely to remain, 
Creatures of light we never see again ! 

Around the white necks of the nymphs who 
danc'd 
Hung carcanets of orient gems, that glanc'd 
More brilliant than the sea-glass glittering o'er 
The hills of crystal on the Caspian shore ; ^ 
While from their long, dark tresses, in a fall 
Of curls descending, bells as musical 
As those that, on the golden-shafted trees 
Of Eden, shaken in the eternal breeze, ^5 



74 LALLA ROOKH. 

Rung round their steps, at every bound more 

sweet, 
As 'twere the ecstatic language of their feet. 
At length the chase was o'er, and they stood 

wreath 'd 
Within each other's arms; while soft there 

breath'd 
Through the cool casement mingled with the 

sighs 
Of moonlight flowers, music that seem'd to rise 
From some still lake, so liquidly it rose; 
And, as it swell'd again at each faint close. 
The ear could track, through all that maze of 

chords 
And young sweet voices, these impassion'd 

words : 

A Spirit there is, whose fragrant sigh 
Is burning now through earth and air: 

Where cheeks are blushing, the Spirit is nigh ; 
Where lips are meeting, the Spirit is there ! 

His breath is the soul of flowers like these, 
And his floating eyes — oh! they resemble ^^ 

Blue water-lilies. ^7 when the breeze 

Is making the stream around them tremble. 

Hail to thee, hail to thee, kindling power! 

Spirit of Love, Spirit of Bliss! 
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, 

And there never was moonlight so sweet as 
this. 

By the fair and brave 
Who blushing unite, 



LALLA ROOKH. 75 

Like the sun and wave, 
When they meet at night ; 

By the tear that shows 

When passion is nigh, 
As the rain-drop flows 

From the heat of the sky ; 

By the first love-beat 

Of the youthful heart, 
By the bliss to meet, 

And the pain to part; 

By all that thou hast 

To mortals given, 
Which — oh, could it last, 

This earth were heaven ! 

We call thee hither, entrancing Power! 

Spirit of Love! Spirit of Bliss! 
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, 

And there never was moonlight so sweet as 
this. 

Impatient of a scene whose luxuries stole, 
Spite of himself, too deep into his soul, 
And where, 'midst all that the young heart 

loves most — 
Flowers music, smiles — to yield was to be 

lost. 
The youth had started up, and turn'd away 
From the light nymphs, and their luxurious 

lay, 
To muse upon the pictures that hung round, ^^ — 



76 LALLA ROOKH. 

Bright images, that spoke without a sound ; 
And views, like vistas into fairy ground. 
But here again new spells came o'er his sense : — 
All that the pencil's mute omnipotence 
Could call up into life, of soft and fair, 
Of fond and passionate, was glowing there ; 
Nor yet too warm, but touch'd with that fine art 
Which paints of pleasure but the purer part ; 
Which knows even Beauty when half-veil'd is 

best, 
Like her own radiant planet of the west, 
Whose orb when half-retir'd looks loveliest.^ 
There hung the history of the Genii-King, 
Traced though each gay, voluptuous wandering 
With her from Saba's bowers, in whose bright 

eyes 
He read that to be blest is to be wise ; ^° — 
Here fond Zuleika 91 woos with open arms 
The Hebrew boy, who flies from her young 

charms, 
Yet, flying, turns to gaze, and, half undone, 
Wishes that Heaven and she could both be 

won; 
And here Mohammed, born for love and guile, 
Forgets the Koran in his Mary's smile; — 
Then beckons some kind angel from above 
With a new text to consecrate their love. 92 

With rapid step, yet pleas'd and ling'ring 
eye, 
Did the youth pass these pictur.'d stories by. 
And hasten'd to a casement, where the light 
Of the calm moon came in, and freshly bright 
The fields without were seen, sleeping as still 



LALLA ROOKH. 77 

As if no life remain 'd in breeze or rill. 
Here paus'dhe, while the music, now less near, 
Breath 'd with a holier language on his ear, 
As though the distance, and that heavenly ray 
Through which the sounds came floating, took 

away 
All that had been too earthly in the lay. 

Oh! could he listen to such sounds unmov'd, 
And by that light — nor dream of her he lov'd? 
Dream on, unconscious boy! while yet thou 

may'st; 
'Tis the last bliss thy soul shall ever taste. 
Clasp yet awhile her image to thy heart. 
Ere all the light, that made it dear, depart. 
Think of her smiles as when thou saw'st them 

last. 
Clear, beautiful, by nought of earth o'ercast; 
Recall her tears, to thee at parting given, 
Pure as they weep, if angels weep, in Heaven. 
Think, in her own still bower she waits thee 

now. 
With the same glow of heart and bloom of 

brow. 
Yet shrin'd in solitude — thine all, thine only, 
Like the one star above thee, bright and lonely. 
Oh! that a dream so sweet, so long enjoy 'd, 
Should be so sadly, cruelly destroy 'd! 

The song is hush'd, the laughing nymphs are 
flown, 
And he is left, musing of bliss, alone ; — 
Alone? — no, not alone — that heavy sigh, 



78 LALLA ROOKH. 

That sob of grief, which broke trom some one 

nigh— 
Whose could it be? — alas! is misery found 
Here, even here, on this enchanted ground? 
He turns, and sees a female form, close veil'd. 
Leaning, as if both heart and strength had 

fail'd, 
Against a pillow near; — not glittering o'er 
With gem and wreaths, such as the others 

wore. 
But in that deep-blue, melancholy dress, 93 
Bokhara's maidens wear in mindfulness 
Of friends or kindred, dead or far away ; — 
And such as Zelica had on that day 
He left her — when, with heart too full to speak, 
He took away her last warm tears upon his 

cheek. 

A strange emotion stirs within him, — more 
Than mere compassion ever wak'd before; 
Unconsciously he opes his arms, while she 
Springs forward, as with life's last energy. 
But, swooning in that one convulsive bound. 
Sinks, ere she reach his arms, upon the 

ground — 
Her veil falls off — her faint hands clasp his 

knees — 
'Tis she herself! — 'tis Zelica he sees! 
But, ah, so pale, so chang'd — none but a lover 
Could in that wreck of beauty's shrine discover 
The once ador'd divinity — even he 
Stood for some moments mute, and doubtingly 
Put back the ringlets from her brow, and gaz'd 
Upon those lids, where once such lustre blaz'd,. 



LALLA ROOKH. 79 

Ere he could think she was indeed his own, 
Own darling maid, whom he so long had 

known 
In joy and sorrow, beautiful in both ; 
Who, even when grief was heaviest — when 

loth 
He left her for the wars — in that worst hour 
Sat in her sorrow like the sweet night-flower, 94 
When darkness brings its weeping glories out, 
And spreads its sighs like frankincense about. 

*'Look up, my Zelica — one moment show 
Those gentle eyes to me, that I may know 
Thy life, thy loveliness is not all gone, 
But there, at least, shines as it ever shone. 
Come, look upon thy Azim — one dear glance, 
Like those of old, were heaven! whatever 

chance 
Hath brought thee here, oh, 'twas a blessed 

one! 
There — my lov'd lips — they move — that kiss 

hath run 
Like the first shoot of life through every vein. 
And now I clasp her, mine, all mine again. 
Oh the delight — now, in this very hour. 
When had the whole rich world been in my 

power, 
I should have singled out thee, only thee, 
From the whole world's collected treasury — 
To have thee here^ — to hang thus fondly o'er 
My own, best, purest Zelica once more!" 

It was indeed the touch of those fond lips 
Upon her eyes that chas'd their short eclipse; 



80 LALLA ROOKH. 

And, gradual as the snow, at Heaven's breath, 
Melts off and shows the azure flowers beneath, 
Her lids unclos'd, and the bright eyes were 

seen 
Gazing on his — not as they late had been, 
Quick, restless, wild, but mournfully serene ; 
As if to lie, even for that tranced minute. 
So near his heart, had consolation in it ; 
And thus to wake in his belov'd caress 
Took from her soul one half its wretchedness. 
But, when she heard him call her good and 

pure, 
Oh, 'twas too much — too dreadful to endure! 
Shudd'ring she broke away from his embrace, 
And, hiding with both hands her guilty face, 
Said, in a tone whose anguish would have 

riven 
A heart of very marble, *'Pure! — oh, 

Heaven!"— 

That tone — those looks so chang'd — the with- 
ering blight 
That sin and sorrow leave where'er they light; 
The dead despondency of those sunk eyes. 
Where once, had he thus met her by surprise, 
He would have seen himself, too happy boy, 
Reflected in a thousand lights of joy; 
And then the place, — that bright, unholy place, 
Where vice lay hid beneath each winning grace 
And charm of luxury, as the viper weaves 
Its wily covering of sweet balsam leaves,95 — 
All struck upon his heart, sudden and cold 
As death itself; — it needs not to be told — 
No, no — he sees it all, plain as the brand 



LALLA ROOKH. 81 

Of burning shame can mark — whate'er the 

hand, 
That could from Heaven and him such bright- 
ness sever 
'Tis done — to Heaven and him she's lost for- 
ever! 
It was a dreadful moment ; not the tears, 
The lingering, lasting misery of years 
Could match that minute's anguish — all the 

worst 
Of sorrow's elements in that dark burst 
Broke o'er his soul, and, with one crash of 

fate, 
Laid the whole hopes of his life desolate. 

**0h! curse me not," she cried, as wild he 

toss'd 
His desperate hand tow'rd Heaven — "though I 

am lost. 
Think not that guilt, that falsehood made 

me fall : 
No, no, 'twas grief, 'twas madness did it all! 
Nay, doubt me not — though all thy love hath 

ceas'd — 
I know it hath — yet, yet believe, at least, 
That every spark of reason's light must be 
Quench 'd in this brain, ere I could stray from 

thee. 
They told me thou wert dead — why, Azim, why 
Did we not, both of us, that instant die 
When we were parted? Oh! couldst thou but 

know 
With what deep devotedness of woe 
I wept thy absence — o'er and o'er again 



82 LALLA ROOKH. 

Thinking of thee, still thee, till thought grew 

pain. 
And memory, like a drop that, night and day, 
Falls cold and ceaseless, wore my heart away. 
Didst thou but know how pale I sat at home. 
My eyes still turn'd the way thou wert to come. 
And, all the long, long night of hope and 

fear. 
Thy voice and step still sounding in my ear — - 

God! thou wouldst not wonder that, at last. 
When every hope was all at once o'ercast, 
When I heard frightful voices round me say, 
Azim is dead! — this wretched brain gave way, 
And I became a wreck, at random driven. 
Without one glimpse of reason or of Heaven — 
All wild — and even this quenchless love within 
Turn'd to foul fires to light me into sin! — 
Thou pitiest me — I knew thou wouldst — that 

sky 
Hath nought beneath it half so lorn as I. 
The fiend who lur'd me hither — hist! come 

near. 
Or thoM, too, thou art lost, if he should hear — 
Told me such things — oh! with such devilish 

art 
As would have ruin'd even a holier heart — 
Of thee, and of that ever-radiant sphere. 
Where bless'd at length, if I but serv'd him 

here, 

1 should forever live in thy dear sight, 

And drink from those pure eyes eternal light. 
Think, think how lost, how madden'd I must 

be, 
To hope that guilt could lead to God or thee! 



LALLA ROOKH. 83 

Thou weep' St for me — do weep — oh, that I 

durst 
Kiss off that tear! but, no — these lips are 

curst, 
They must not touch thee ; — one divine caress, 
One blessed moment of forgetfulness 
I've had within those arms, and that shall 

lie, 
Shrin'd in my soul's deep memory till I die; 
The last of joy's last relics here below. 
The one sweet drop, in all this waste of woe, 
My heart has treasur'd from affection's spring. 
To soothe and cool its deadly withering! 
But thou — yes, thou must go — forever go ; 
This place is not for thee — for thee! oh, no! 
Did I but tell thee half, thy tortur'd brain 
Would burn like mine, and mine grow wild 

again ! 
Enough, that Guilt reigns here — that hearts, 

once good. 
Now tainted, chill'd, and broken, are his food. — 
Enough, that we are parted — that there rolls 
A flood of headlong fate between our souls. 
Whose darkness severs me as wide from thee 
As hell from heaven, to all eternity?" 

''Zelica, Zelica!" the youth exclaim'd. 
In all the tortures of a mind in flam 'd 
Almost to madness — **by that sacred Heaven, 
Where yet, if prayers can move, thou'lt be for- 
given, 
As thou art here, here in this writhing heart, 
All sinful, wild, and ruin'd as thou art! 
By the remembrance of our once pure love. 



84 LALLA ROOKH. 

Which, like a churchyard light, still burns 

above 
The grave of our lost souls — which guilt in 

thee 
Cannot extinguish, nor despair in me! 
I do conjure, implore thee to fly hence — 
If thou hast yet one spark of innocence, 
Fly with me from this place — " 

"With thee! oh bliss! 
'Tis worth whole years of torment to hear this. 
What! take the lost one with thee? — let her 

rove 
By thy dear side, as in those days of love, 
When we were both so happy, both so pure — 
Too heavenly dream! if there's on earth a 

cure 
For the sunk heart, 'tis this — day after day 
To be the blest companion of thy way ; 
To hear thy angel eloquence — to see 
Those virtuous eyes forever turn'd on me; 
And, in their light re-chasten'd silently, 
Like the stain'd web that whitens in the sun. 
Grow pure by being purely shone upon ! 
And thou wilt pray for me — I know thou wilt — 
At the dim vesper hour, when thoughts of 

guilt 
•Come heaviest o'er the heart, thou'lt lift thine 

eyes. 
Pull of sweet tears, unto the dark'ning skies. 
And plead for me with Heaven, till I can dare 
To fix my own weak, sinful glances there; 
Till the good angels, when they see me cling 
Forever near thee, pale and sorrowing, 
Shall for thy sake pronounce my soul forgiven. 



LALLA ROOKH. 85 

And bid thee take thy weeping slave to 

Heaven ! 
Oh yes, I'll fly with thee—" 

Scarce had she said 
These breathless words, when a voice deep 

and dread 
As that of Monker, waking up the dead 
From their first sleep — so startling 'twas to 

both- 
Rung through the casement near, *'Thy oath! 

thy oath ! ' * 
Oh Heaven, the ghastliness of that Maid's 

look !— 
*' 'Tis he," faintly she cried, while terror shook 
Her inmost core, nor durst she lift her eyes, 
Though through the casement, now, nought 

but the skies 
And moonlit fields were seen, calm as before — 
" *Tis he, and I am his — all, all is o'er — 
Go — fly this instant, or thou'rt ruin'd too — 
My oath, my oath, O God! 'tis all too true, 
True as the worm in this cold heart it is — 
I am Mokanna's bride — his, Azim, his — 
The Dead stood round us, while I spoke that 

vow; 
Their blue lips echo'd it — I hear them now ! 
Theix eyes glar'd on me, while I pledg'd that 

bowl: 
'Twas burning blood — I feel it in my soul ! 
And the Veil'd Bridegroom — hist! I've seen 

to-night 
What angels know not of — so foul a sight, 
So horrible — oh! never may'st thou see 



86 LALLA ROOKH. 

What there lies hid from all but heir and me! 
But I must hence — off, off — I am not thine, 
Nor Heaven's, nor Love's, nor aught that is 

divine — 
Hold me not — ha! think'st thou the fiends 

that sever 
Hearts, cannot sunder hands? — thus, then — 

forever ! ' ' 

With all that strength which madness lends 

the weak, 
She flung away his arm ; and, with a shriek. 
Whose sound, though he should linger out 

more years 
Than wretch e'er told, can never leave his 

ears — 
Flew up through that long avenue of light, 
Fleetly as some dark, ominous bird of night 
Across the sun, and soon was out of sight ! 

Lalla Rookh could think of nothing all day 
but the misery of these two young lovers. 
Her gayety was gone, and she looked pensively 
even upon Fadladeen. She felt, too, without 
knowing why, a sort of uneasy pleasure in 
imagining that Azim must have been just such 
a youth as Feramorz ; just as worthy to enjoy 
all the blessings, without any of the pangs, of 
that illusive passion which too often, like the 
sunny apples of Istkahar,96 is all sweetness on 
one side, and all bitterness on the other. 

As they passed along a sequestered river 
after sunset, they saw a young Hindoo girl 
upon the bank, 97 whose employmeat seemed 



LALLA ROOKH. 87 

to them so strange that they stopped their 
palankeens to observe her. She had lighted a 
small lamp, filled with oil of cocoa, and, plac- 
ing it in an earthen dish, adorned with a wreath 
of flowers, had committed it with a trembling 
hand to the stream; and was now anxiously 
watching its progress down the current, heed- 
less of the gay cavalcade which liad drawn up 
beside her. Lalla Rookh was all curiosity ; — 
when one of her attendants, who had lived upon 
the banks of the Ganges (where this ceremony 
is so frequent, that often, in the dusk of the 
evening, the river is seen glittering all over with 
lights, like the Oton-tala, or Sea of Stars 9^), 
informed the Princess that it was the usual 
way in which the friends of those who had gone 
on dangerous voyages offered up vows for their 
safe return. If the lamp sunk immediately, 
the omen was disastrous : but if it went shining 
down the stream, and continued to burn until 
entirely out of sight, the return of the beloved 
object was considered as certain. 

Lalla Rookh, as they moved on, more than 
once looked back to observe how the young 
Hindoo's lamp proceeded; and while she saw 
with pleasure that it was still unextinguished, 
she could not help fearing that all the hopes of 
this life were no better than that feeble light 
upon the river. The remainder of the journey 
was passed in silence. She now, for the first 
time, felt that shade of melancholy which comes 
over the youthful maiden's heart, as sweet and 
transient as her own breath upon a mirror : nor 



88 LALLA ROOKH. 

was it till she heard the lute of Feramorz, 
touched lightly at the door of her pavilion, 
that she waked from the reverie in which she 
had been wandering. Instantly her eyes were 
lighted up with pleasure; and after a few 
unheard remarks from Fadladeen, upon the 
indecorum of a poet seating himself in presence 
of a Princess, everything was arranged as on 
the preceding evening, and all listened with 
eagerness, while the story was thus continued : 

Whose are the gilded tents that crown the 

way. 
Where all was waste and silent 5^esterday? 
This City of War, which, in a few short hours, 
Hath sprung up here, 99 as if the magic powers 
Of Him who, in the twinkling of a star. 
Built the high pillar 'd halls of Chilminar,i«> 
Had conjur'd up, far as the eye can see. 
This world of tents, and domes, and sun-bright 

armory : 
Princely pavilions, screen 'd by many a fold 
Of crimson cloth, and topp'd with balls of 

gold:— 
Steeds, with their housings of rich silver spun, 
Their chains and poitrels, glittering in the sun ; 
And camels, tufted o'er with Yemen's shells, ^°' 
Shaking in every breeze their light-ton'd bells! 

But yester-eve, so motionless around, 
So mute was this wide plain, that not a sound 
But the far torrent, or the locust bird ^°^ 
Hunting among the thickets, could be 
heard ; — 



LALLA ROOKH. 89 

Yet hark ! what discords now, of every kind, 
Shouts, laughs, and screams are revealing in 

the wind; 
The neigh of cavalry; — the tinkling throngs 
Of laden camels and their drivers' songs ;io3 — 
Ringing of arms, and flapping in the breeze 
Of streamers from ten thousand canopies ; — 
War music, bursting out from time to time. 
With gong and tymbalon's tremendous chime; 
Or, in the pause, when harsher sounds are 

mute. 
The mellow breathings of some horn or flute, 
That far off, broken by the eagle note 
Of the Abyssinian trumpet, ^°'* swell and float 

Who leads this mighty army? — ask ye '*who?" 
And mark ye not those banners of dark hue. 
The Night and Shadow, ^°5 over yonder tent? — 
It is the Caliph's glorious armament. 
Roused in his Palace by the dread alarms, 
That hourly came, of the false Prophet's arms, 
And of the host of infidels, who hurl'd 
Defiance fierce at Islam ^°^ and the world, — 
Though worn with Grecian warfare, and behind 
The veils of his bright Palace calm reclin'd, 
Yet brook 'd he not such blasphemy should 

stain. 
Thus unreveng'd, the evening of his reign ; 
But, having sworn upon the Holy Grave ^°7 
To conquer or to perish, once more gave 
His shadowy banners proudly to the breeze. 
And with an army, nurs'd in victories. 
Here stands to crush the rebels that o'errun 
His blest and beauteous Province of the Sun. 



90 LALLA ROOKH. 

Ne'er did the march of Mahadi display 
Such pomp before ; — not even when on his way 
To Mecca's Temple, when both land and sea 
Were spoil'd to feed the Pilgrim's luxury ;^o8 
When round him, 'mid the burning sands, he 

saw 
Fruits of the North in icy freshness thaw, 
And cool'd his thirsty lip, beneath the glow 
Of Mecca's sun, with urns of Persian snow:^°9 — 
Nor e'er did armament of the Caliphat. 
First, in the van, the People of the Rock,"° 
On their light mountain steeds, of royal stock. "^ 
Then, chieftains of Damascus, proud to see 
The flashing of their swords' rich mar- 

quetr}^ •,^^^— 
Men from the regions near the Volga's mouth, 
Mix'd with the rude, black archers of the 

South; 
And Indian lancers, in white-turban 'd ranks. 
From the far Sinde, or Attock's sacred banks, 
With dusty legions from the land of Myrrh, ^^s 
And many a mace-arm 'd Moor and Mid-sea 

islander. 

Nor less in number, though more new and 

rude 
In warfare's school, was the vast multitude 
That, fir'd by zeal, or by oppression wrong'd, 
Round the white standard of the Impostor 

throng'd. 
Beside his thousand of Believers — blind. 
Burning and headlong as the Samiel wind — 
Many who felt, and more who fear'd to feel 
The bloody Islamite's converting steel, 



LALLA ROOKH, 91 

Flock'd to his banner; — Chiefs of the Uzbek 

race, 
Waving their heron crests with martial grace ;^^4 
Turkomans, countless as their flocks, led forth 
From the aromatic pastures of the North ; 
Wild warriors of the turquoise hills, "5 — and 

those 
Who dwell beyond the everlasting snows 
Of Hindoo Kosh,"^ in stormy freedom bred. 
Their fort the rock, their camp the torrent's 

bed. 
But none, of all who own'd the Chief's com- 
mand, 
Rush'd to that battle-field with bolder hand, 
Or sterner hate, than Iran's outlaw'd men. 
Her Worshippers of Fire "7 — all panting then 
For vengeance on the accursed Saracen ; 
Vengeance at last for their dear country 

spurn 'd, 
Her throne usurp'd, and her bright shrines 

o'erturn'd. 
From Yezd's"^ eternal Mansion of the Fire, 
Where aged saints in dreams of Heaven expire : 
From Badku, and those fountains of blue flame 
That burn into the Caspian, "9 fierce they came, 
Careless for what or whom the blow was sped. 
So vengeance triumph 'd, and their tyrants 

bled. 

Such was the wild and miscellaneous host, 
That high in air their motley banners tost 
Around the Prophet-Chief — all e)^es still bent 
Upon that glittering Veil, where'er it went. 
That beacon through the battle's stormy flood, 



92 LALLA ROOKH. 

That rainbow of the field, whose showers were 
blood. 

Twice hath the sun upon their conflict set, 
And risen again, and found them grappling yet ; 
While streams of carnage, in his noontide blaze, 
Smoke up to Heaven — hot as that crimson haz^e 
By which the prostrate Caravan is aw'd,^2o 
In the red Desert, when the wind's abroad. 
*'0n, Swords of God!" the panting Caliph 

calls, — 
* 'Thrones for the living — Heaven for him who 

falls!" 
*'0n, brave avengers, on," Mokanna cries, 
*'And Eblis blast the recreant slave that flies!" 
Now comes the brunt, the crisis of the day — 
They clash — they strive — the Caliph's troops 

give way! 
Mokanna's self plucks the black banner down. 
And now the Orient World's Imperial crown 
Is just within his grasp — when, hark, that 

shout ! 
Some hand hath check 'd the flying Moslems' 

rout ; 
And now they turn, they rally — at their head 
A warrior (like those angel youths who led, 
In glorious panoply of heaven's own mail. 
The Champions of the Faith through Beder's 

vale,) 121 

Bold as if gifted with ten thousand lives. 
Turns on the fierce pursuers' blades, and drives 
At once the multitudinous torrent back — 
While hope and courage kindle in his track ; 
And, at each step, his bloody falchion makes 



LALLA ROOKH. 9^3 

Terrible vistas through which victory breaks ! 
In vain Mokanna, 'midst the general flight, 
Stands, like the red moon, on some stormy- 
night, 
Among the fugitive clouds that, hurrying by, 
Leave only her unshaken in the sky — 
In vain he yells his desperate curses out. 
Deals death promiscuously to all about, 
To foes that charge and coward friends that 

fly, 

And seems of all the Great Arch-enemy. 
The panic spreads — "A miracle!" throughout 
The Moslem ranks, ''a miracle!" they shout, 
All gazing on that youth, whose coming seems 
A light, a glory, such as breaks in dreams; 
And every sword, true as o'er billows dim 
The needle tracks the lodestar, following him ! 

Right tow'rds Mokanna now he cleaves his 

path. 
Impatient cleaves, as though the bolt of wrath 
He bears from Heaven withheld its awful burst 
From weaker heads, and souls but half-way 

curst. 
To break o'er Him, the mightiest and the 

worst ! 
But vain his speed — though, in that hour of 

blood, 
Had all God's seraphs round Mokanna stood, 
With swords of fire, ready like fate to fall, 
Mokanna's soul would have defied them all; 
Yet now, the rush of fugitives, too strong 
For human force, hurries even him along; 
In vain he struggles 'mid the wedg'd array 



94 LALLA ROOKH. 

Of flying thousands — he is borne away ; 
And the sole joy his baffled spirit knows, 
In this forc'd flight, is — murdering as he goes 
As a grim tiger, whom the torrent's might 
Surprises in some parch'd ravine at night, 
Turns, even in drowning, on the wretched 

flocks, 
Swept with him in that snow-flood from the 

rocks, 
And, to the last, devouring on his way. 
Bloodies the stream he hath not power to stay. 

"Alia ilia Alia!" — the glad shout renew — 
**Alla Akbar!"i22_the Caliph's in Merou. 
Hang out your gilded tapestry in the streets, 
And light your shrines and chant your zira- 
leets.i23 

The Swords of God have triumph 'd — on his 

throne 
Your CaHph sits, and the Veil'd Chief hath 

flown. 
Who does not envy that young warrior now. 
To whom the Lord of Islam bends his brow, 
In all the graceful gratitude of power. 
For his throne's safety in that perilous hour? 
Who doth not wonder, when, amidst the acclaim 
Of thousands, heralding to heaven his name — 
'Mid all those holier harmonies of fame, 
Which sound along the path of virtuous souls, 
Like music round a planet as it rolls, — 
He turns away — coldly, as if some gloom 
Hung o'er his heart no triumphs can illume; — 
Some sightless grief, upon whose blasted gaze 
Though Glory's light may play, in vain it plays! 



LALLA ROOKH. 95 

Yes, wretched Azim ! thine is such a grief, 

Beyond all hope, all terror, all relief; 

A dark, cold calm, which nothing now can 

break, 
Or warm or brighten, — like that Syrian Lake, ^24 
Upon whose surface morn and summer shed 
Their smiles in vain, for all beneath is dead! — 
Hearts there have been, o'er which this weight 

of woe 
Came by long use of suffering, tame and slow ; 
But thine, lost youth ! was sudden — over thee 
It broke at once, when all seem'd ecstasy; 
When Hope look'd up, and saw the gloomy 

Past 
Melt into splendor, and Bliss dawn at last — 
'Twas then, even then, o'er joys so freshly 

blown, 
This mortal blight of misery came down ; 
Even then, the full, warm gushings of thy 

heart 
Were check'd — like fount-drops, frozen as they 

start — 
And there, like them, cold, sunless relics hang, 
Each fix'd and chill'd into a lasting pang. 

One sole desire, one passion now remains 
To keep life's fever still within his veins. 
Vengeance! — dire vengeance on the wretch 

who cast 
O'er him and all he lov'd that ruinous blast. 
For this, when rumors reach'd him in his flight 
Far, far away, after that fatal night, — 
Rumors of armies, thronging to the attack 



96 LALLA ROOKH. 

Of the Veil'd Chief, — for this he wing'd him 

back, 
Fleet as the vulture speeds to flags unfurl 'd, 
And, when all hopes seem'd desperate, wildly 

hurl'd 
Himself into the scale, and saved a world. 
For this he still lives on, careless of all 
The wreaths that Glory on his path lets fall ; 
For this alone exists — like lightning-fire, 
To speed one bolt of vengeance, and expire ! 

But safe as yet that Spirit of Evil lives ; 
With a small band of desperate fugitives, 
The last sole stubborn fragment, left unriven^ 
Of the proud host that late stood fronting 

Heaven, 
He gain'd Merou — breath 'd a short curse of 

blood 
O'er his lost throne — then pass'd the Jihon*s 

flood, 125 

And gathering all, whose madness of belief 
Still saw a Saviour in their down-fall'n Chief, 
Rais'd the white banner within Neksheb's 
gates, 126 

And there, untam'd, the approaching con- 
qu'ror waits. 

Of all his Haram, all that busy hive, 
With music and with sweets sparkling alive, 
He took but one, the partner of his flight. 
One — not for love — not for her beauty's light — 
No, Zelica stood withering 'midst the gay, 
Wan as the blossom that fell yesterday 
From the Alma tree and dies, while overhead 



LALLA ROOKH. 97 

To-day's young flower is springing in its 

stead. 127 
Oh, not for love — the deepest Damn'd must be 
Touch'd with Heaven's glory, ere such fiends 

as he 
Can feel one glimpse of Love's divinity. 
But no, she is his victim ; there lie all 
Her charms for him — charms that can never 

pall, 
As long as hell within his heart can stir, 
Or one faint trace of Heaven is left in her. 
To work an angel's ruin, — to behold 
As white a page as Virtue e'er unroll 'd 
Blacken, beneath his touch, into a scroll 
Of damning sins, seal'd with a burning soul- — 
This is his triumph ; this the joy accurst, 
That ranks him among demons all but first: 
This gives the victim, that before him lies 
Blighted and lost, a glory in his eyes, 
A light like that with which hell-fire illumes 
The ghastly, writhing wretch whom it con- 
sumes! 

But other tasks now wait him — tasks that 

need 
All the deep daringness of thought and deed 
With which the Dives ^^s have gifted him — for 

mark. 
Over yon plains, which night had else made 

dark, 
Those lanterns, countless as the winged lights 
That spangle India's fields on showery 

nights, "9 — 

Far as their formidable gleams they shed, 

7 



58 LALLA ROOKH. 

The mighty tents of the beleaguerer spread, 
Olimmering along the horizon's dusky line, 
And thence in nearer circles, till they shine 
Among the founts and groves, o'er which the 

town 
In all its arm'd magnificence looks down, 
Yet, fearless, from his lofty battlements 
Mokanna views that multitude of tents; 
Nay, smiles to think that, though entoil'd, 

beset, 
Not less than myriads dare to front him yet; — 
That friendless, throneless, he thus stands at 

bay, 
Even thus a match for myriads such as they. 
^'Oh, for a sweep of that dark Angel's wing. 
Who brush'd the thousands of the Assyrian 

King 130 
To darkness in a moment, that I might 
People Hell's chambers with yon host to-night! 
But, come what may, let who will grasp the 

throne. 
Caliph or Prophet, Man alike shall groan; 
Let who will torture him — Priest, Caliph, 

King- 
Alike this loathsome world of his shall ring 
With victims' shrieks, and bowlings of the 

slave, — 
Sounds that shall glad me even within my 

grave ! ' ' 
Thus to himself; but to the scanty train 
Still left around him, a far different strain: — 
"Glorious Defenders of the sacred Crown 
I bear from Heaven, whose light nor blood 

shall drown. 



LALLA ROOKH. 99* 

Nor shadow of earth eclipse; — before whose 

gems 
The paly pomp of this world's diadems, 
The crown of Gerashid, the pillar'd throne 
Of Parviz,^3i and the heron crest that shone, ^3^ 
Magnificent, o'er Ali's beauteous eyes, ^33 
Fade like the stars when morn is in the skies: 
Warriors, rejoice — the port to which we've 

pass'd 
O'er Destiny's dark wave, beams out at last I 
Victory's our own — 'tis written in that Book 
Upon whose leaves none but the angels look^ 
That Islam's sceptre shall beneath the power 
Of her great foe fall broken in that hour, 
When the moon's mighty orb, before all eyes, 
From Neksheb's Holy Well portentously shall 

rise! 
Now turn and see!" — 

They turn'd, and, as he spoke, 
A sudden splendor all around them broke, 
And they beheld an orb, ample and bright, 
Rise from the Holy Well,i34 and cast its light 
Round the rich city and the plain for miles, ^35 — 
Flinging such radiance o'er the gilded tiles 
Of many a dome and fair-roof 'd minaret 
As autumn suns shed round them when they 

set. 
Instant from all who saw the illusive sign 
A murmur broke — "Miraculous! divine!" 
The Gheber bow'd, thinking his idol star 
Had wak'd and burst impatient through the 

bar 
Of midnight, to inflame him to the war; 
While he of Moussa's creed saw, in that ray. 



100 LALLA ROOKH. 

The glorious Light which, in his freedom's day, 
Had rested on the Ark, ^36 and now again 
Shone out to bless the breaking of his chain. 

"To victory!" is at once the cry of all — 
Nor stands Mokanna loitering at that call ; 
Bat instant the huge gates are flung aside, 
And forth, like a diminutive mountain-tide 
Into the boundless sea, they speed their course 
Right on into the Moslem's mighty force. 
The watchmen of the camp, — who, in their 

rounds, 
Had paus'd, and even forgot the punctual 

sounds 
Of the small drum with which they count the 
night, 137 

To gaze upon that supernatural light, — 
Now sink beneath an unexpected arm. 
And in a death-groan give their last alarm. 
''On for the lamps, that light yon lofty screen, ^38 
Nor blunt your blades with massacre so mean; 
There rests the Caliph — speed — one lucky 

lance 
May now achieve mankind's deliverance." 
Desperate the die — such as they only cast 
Who venture for a world, and stake their last. 
But Fate's no longer with him — blade for blade 
Springs up to meet them through the glim- 
mering shade. 
And, as the clash is heard, new legions soon 
Pour to the spot, like bees of Kauzeroon^39 
To the shrill timbrel's summons, — till, at 

length. 
The mighty camp swarms out in all its strength, 



LALLA ROOKH. 101 

And back to Neksheb's gates, covering the 

plain 
With random slaughter, drives the adventurous 

train ; 
Among the last of whom the Silver Veil 
Is seen glittering at times, like the white sail 
Of some toss'd vessel, on a stormy night, 
Catching the tempest's momentary light! 

And hath not this brought the proud spirit 
low? 
Nor dash'd his brow, nor check'd his daring? 

No. 
Though half the wretches, whom at night he 

led 
To thrones and victory, lie disgrac'd and dead, 
Yet morning hears him, with unshrinking 

crest, 
Still vaunt of thrones and victory to the rest ; — 
And they believe him! — oh, the lover may 
Distrust that look which steals his soul away; — 
The babe may cease to think that it can play 
With Heaven's rainbow; — alchymists may 

doubt 
The shining gold their crucible gives out: 
But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast 
To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last. 

And well the Imposter knew all lures and 
arts 
That Lucifer e'er taught to tangle hearts; 
Nor, 'mid these last bold workings of his plot 
Against men's souls, is Zelica forgot. 
Ill-fated Zelica! had reason been 



102 LALLA ROOKH. 

Awake, through half the horrors thou hast 

seen, 
Thou never couldst have borne it — Death had 

come 
At once, and taken thy wrung spirit home. 
But 'twas not so — a torpor, a suspense 
Of thought, almost of life, came o'er the intense 
And passionate struggles of that fearful night, 
When her last hope of peace and heaven took 

flight: 
And though, at times, a gleam of frenzy 

broke, — 
As through some dull volcano's veil of smoke 
Ominous flashings now and then will start. 
Which show the fire's still busy at its heart, — 
Yet was she mostly wrapped in solemn gloom ; 
Not such as Azim's, brooding o'er its doom. 
And calm without, as is the brow of death, 
While busy worms are gnawing underneath, — > 
But in a blank and pulseless torpor, free 
From thought or pain, a seal'd-up apathy, 
Which left her oft, with scarce one living thrill, 
The cold, pale victim of her torturer's will. 

Again, as in Merou, he had her deck'd 
Gorgeously out, the Priestess of the sect; 
And led her glittering forth before the eyes 
Of his rude train, as to a sacrifice, — 
Pallid as she, the young, devoted Bride 
Of the fierce Nile, when, deck'd in all the pride 
Of nuptial pomp, she sinks into his tide. '4° 
And while the wretched maid hung down her 

head, 
And stood, as one just risen from the dead, 



LALLA ROOKH. 103 

Amid that gazing crowd, the fiend would tell 
His credulous slaves it was some charm or 

spell 
Possess'd her now, — and from that darken'd 

trance 
Should dawn ere long their Faith's deliverance. 
Or if, at times, goaded by guilty shame, 
Her soul was rous'd, and words of wildness 

came. 
Instant the bold blasphemer would translate 
Her ravings into oracles of fate, — 
Would hail Heaven's signals in her flashing 

eyes, 
And call her shrieks the language of the skies! 

But vain at length his arts — despair is seen 
Gathering around ; and famine comes to glean 
All that the sword had left unreap'd: — in 

vain 
At morn and eve across the northern plain 
He looks impatient for the promis'd spears 
Of the wild Hordes and Tartar mountaineers; 
They come not — while his fierce beleaguers 

pour 
Engines of havoc in, unknown before, ^41 
And horrible as new;^42 — javelins, that fly 
Enwreathed with smoky flames through the 

dark sky, 
And red-hot globes, that, opening as they 

mount, 
Discharge, as from a kindled Naphtha fount, ^43 
Showers of consuming fire o'er all below; 
Looking, as through the illumin'd night they 



104 LALLA ROOKH. 

Like those wild birds ^44 that by the Magians 

oft, 
At festivals of fire, were sent aloft 
Into the air, with blazing fagots tied 
To their huge wings, scattering combustion 

wide. 
All night the groans of wretches who expire 
In agony, beneath these darts of fire, 
Ring through the city — while, descending o'er 
Its shrines and domes and streets of syca- 
more, — 
Its lone bazaars, with their bright cloths of gold, 
Since the last peaceful pageant left unroll'd, — 
Its beauteous marble baths, w^hose idle jets 
Now gush with blood, — and its tall minarets, 
That late have stood up in the evening glare 
Of the red sun, unhallow'd by a prayer; — 
O'er each, in turn, the dreadful flame-bolts fall, 
And death and conflagration throughout all 
The desolate city hold high festival ! 

Mokanna sees the world is his no more ; — 
One sting at parting, and his grasp is o'er. 
*'What! drooping now?" — thus, with unblush- 
ing cheek. 
He hails the few, who yet can hear him speak, 
Of all those famish'd slaves around him lying, 
And by the light of blazing temples dying; — 
'*What! — drooping now? — now, when at length 

we press 
Home o'er the very threshold of success; 
When Alia from our ranks hath thinn'd away 
Those grosser branches, that kept out his ray 
Of favor from us, and we stand at length 



LALLA ROOKH. 105 

Heirs of his light and children of his strength, 
The chosen few, who shall survive the fall 
Of Kings and Thrones, triumphant over all ! 
Have you then lost, weak murmurers as you 

are, 
All faith in him, who was your Light, your 

Star? 
Have you forgot the eye of glory, hid 
Beneath this Veil, the flashing of whose lid 
Could, like a sun-stroke of the desert, wither 
Millions of such as yonder Chief brings hither? 
Long have its lightnings slept — too long — but 

now 
All earth shall feel the unveiling of this brow! 
To-night — yes, sainted men! this very night, 
I bid you all to a fair festal rite, 
Where — having deep refresh 'd each weary limb 
With viands, such as feast Heaven's cherubim, 
And kindled up your souls, now sunk and dim. 
With that pure wine the Dark-eyed Maids 

above 
Keep, seal'd with precious musk, for those 

they love, ^45 — 
I will myself uncurtain in your sight 
The wonders of this brow's ineffable light; 
Then lead you forth, and with a wink disperse 
Yon myriads, howling through the universe!" 

Eager they listen, while each accent darts 
New life into their chill'dand hope-sick hearts; 
Such treacherous life as the cool draught sup- 
plies 
To him upon the stake, who drinks and dies! 
Wildly they point their lances to the light 



106 LALLA ROOKH. 

Of the fast sinking sun, and shout "To- 
night!" — 
*' To-night!" their Chief re-echoes in a voice 
Of fiend-like mockery that bids hell rejoice. 
Deluded victims ! — never hath this earth 
Seen mourning half so mournful as their mirth. 
Here, to the few, whose iron frames had stood 
This racking waste of famine and of blood, 
Faint, dying wretches clung, from whom the 

shout 
Of triumph like a maniac's laugh broke out: — 
There, others, lighted by the smould'ring fire, 
Danc'd like wan ghosts about a funeral pyre, 
Among the dead and dying, strew'd around; — 
While some pale wretch look'd on, and from 

his wound 
Plucking the fiery dart by which he bled, 
In ghastly transport wav'd it o'er his head! 

'Twas more than midnight now — a fearful 

pause 
Had follow'd the long shouts, the wild 

applause. 
That lately from those Royal Gardens burst. 
Where the Veil'd demon held his feast accurst. 
When Zelica — alas, poor ruin'd heart, 
In every horror doom'd to bear its part! — 
Was bidden to the banquet by a slave. 
Who, while his quivering lip the summons 

gave, 
Grew black, as though the shadows of the grave 
Compass'dhim round, and, ere he could repeat 
His message through, fell lifeless at her feet ! 
Shuddering she went — a soul-felt pang of fear, 



LALLA ROOKH. 107 

A presage that her own dark doom was near, 
Rous'd every feeling, and brought Reason 

back 
Once more, to writhe her last upon the rack. 
All round seem'd tranquil — even the foe had 

ceas'd. 
As if aware of that demoniac feast. 
His fiery bolts; and though the heavens look'd 

red 
'Twas but some distant conflagration's spread. 
But hark — she stops — she listens — dreadful 

tone, 
'Tis her Tormentor's laugh — and now a groan, 
A long death-groan comes with it : — can this be 
The place of mirth, the bower of revelry? 
She enters — Holy Alia, what a sight 
Was there before her! By the glimmering 

light 
Of the pale dawn, mix'd with the flare of 

brands 
That round lay burning, dropp'd from lifeless 

hands 
She saw the board, in splendid mockery spread. 
Rich censers breathing — garlands overhead — 
The urns, the cups, from which they late had 

quaff'd, 
All gold and gems, but — what had been the 

draught? 
Oh ! who need ask, that saw those livid guests, 
With their swoll'n heads sunk black'ning on 

their breasts 
Or looking pale to Heaven with glassy stare, 
As if they sought but saw no mercy there; 



108 LALLA ROOKH. 

As if they felt, though poison rack'd them 

through, 
Remorse the deadlier torment of the two! 
While some, the bravest, hardiest of the train 
Of their false Chief, who on the battle-plain 
Would have met death with transport by his 

side, 
Here mute and helpless gasp'd; — but, as they 

died, 
Look'd horrible vengeance with their eyes' last 

strain. 
And clench'd the slack'ning hand at him in vain. 

Dreadful it was to see the ghastly stare. 
The stony look of horror and despair. 
Which some of these expiring victims cast 
Upon their souls' tormentor to the last; — 
Upon that mocking Fiend whose Veil, now 

rais'd, 
Show'd them, as in death's agony they gazed, 
Not the long promis'd light, the brow, whose 

beaming 
Was to come forth, all conquering, all redeem- 

incr 
But features horribler than Hell e'er trac'd 
On its own brood; — no Demon of the Waste, ^4^ 
No churchyard Ghole, caught lingering in the 

light 
Of the blest sun, e'er blasted human sight 
With lineaments so foul, so fierce as those 
The Impostor, now in grinning mockery, 

shows : — 
*' There, ye wise Saints, behold your Light, 

your Star — 



LALLA ROOKH. 109 

Ye would be dupes and victims, and ye are. 
Is it enough? or must I, while a thrill 
Lives in your sapient bosoms, cheat you still? 
Swear that the burning death ye feel within 
Is but the trance with which Heaven's joys 

begin ; 
That this foul visage, foul as e'er disgrac'd 
Even monstrous man, is — after God's own 

taste ; 
And that — but see! — ere I have half-way said 
My greetings through, the uncourteous souls 

are fled. 
Farewell, sweet spirits! not in vain ye die. 
If Eblis loves you half so well as I. — 
Ha, my young bride! — 'tis well — take thou thy 

seat; 
Nay, come — no shuddering — didst thou never 

meet 
The dead before? — they grac'd our wedding, 

sweet; 
And these, my guests to-night, have brimm'd 

so true 
Their parting cups, that thou shalt pledge one 

too. 
But — how is this? — all empty? all drunk up? 
Hot lips have been before thee in the cup, 
Young bride, — yet stay — one precious drop 

remains, 
Enough to warm a gentle Priestess' veins: — 
Here, drink — and should thy lover's conquer- 
ing arms 
Speed hither, ere thy lip lose all its charms. 
Give him but half this venom in thy kiss. 
And I'll forgive my haughty rival's bliss! 



110 LALLA ROOKH. 

"For me — I too must die — but not like these 
Vile, rankling- things, to fester in the breeze; 
To have this brow in ruffian triumph shown, 
With all Death's grimness added to its own, 
And rot to dust beneath the taunting eyes 
Of slaves exclaiming, 'There his Godship lies!*^ 
No — cursed race — since first my soul drew 

breath, 
They've been my dupes, and shall be e'en in 

death. 
Thou see'styon cistern in the shade — 'tis fill'd 
With burning drugs, for this last hour dis- 
till 'd: 147 

There will I plunge me, in that liquid flame — 
Fit bath to lave a dying Prophet's frame! — 
There perish, all — ere pulse of thine shall fail — 
Nor leave one limb to tell mankind the tale. 
So shall my votaries, whereso'er they rave, 
Proclaim that Heaven took back the Saint it 

gave ; — 
That I've but vanish'd from this earth awhile^ 
To come again, with bright, unshrouded smile I 
So shall they build me altars in their zeal. 
Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall 

kneel; 
Where Faith may mutter o'er her mystic spell, 
Written in blood — and Bigotry may swell 
The sail he spreads for Heaven with blasts 

from hell ! 
So shall my banner, through long ages, be 
The rallying sign of fraud and anarchy: — 
Kings yet unborn shall rue Mokanna's name, 
And though I die, my spirit, still the same. 
Shall walk abroad in all the stormy strife, 



LALLA ROOKH. Ill 

And guilt, and blood, that were its bliss in 

life. 
But, hark! their battering engine shakes the 

wall — 
Why, let it shake — thus I can brave them all. 
No trace of me shall greet them, when they 

come, 
And I can trust thy faith, for — thou 'It be dumb. 
Now mark how readily a wretch like me, 
In one bold plunge, commences Deity!" 

He sprung and sunk, as the last words were 

said — 
'Quick clos'd the burning waters o'er his head 
And Zelica was left — within the ring 
Of those wide walls the only living thing; 
"The only wretched one, still curs'dwith breath, 
In all that frightful wilderness of death ! 
More like some bloodless ghost — such as, they 

tell. 
In the lone Cities of the Silent ^48 dwell. 
And there, unseen of all but Alia, sit 
Each by its own pale carcase, watching it. 

But morn is up, and a fresh warfare stirs 
Throughout the camp of the beleaguerers. 
Their globes of fire (the dread artillery lent 
By Greece to conquering Mahadi) are spent ; 
And now the scorpion's shaft, the quarry sent 
From high ballistas, and the shielded throng 
Of soldiers swinging the huge ram along, 
AH speak the impatient Islamite's intent 
To try, at length, if tower and battlement 
And bastion'd wall be not less hard to win. 



112 LALLA ROOKH. 

Less tough to break down than the hearts 

within. 
First in impatience and in toil is he, 
The burning Azim — oh! could he but see 
The Impostor once alive within his grasp, 
Not the gaunt lion's hug, nor boa's clasp. 
Could match that gripe of vengeance, or keep 

pace 
With the fell heartiness of Hate's embrace! 

Loud rings the ponderous ram against the 

walls ; 
Now shake the ramparts, now a buttress falls, 
But still no breach — "Once more, one mighty 

swing 
Of all your beams, together thundering!" 
There — the wall shakes — the shouting troops 

exult, 
"Quick, quick discharge your weightest cata- 
pult 
Right on that spot, and Neksheb is our own!" 
'Tis done — the battlements come crashing 

down. 
And the huge wall, by that stroke riven in two, 
Yawning, like some old crater, rent anew. 
Shows the dim, desolate city smoking through. 
But strange! no signs of life — nought living 

seen 
Above, below — what can this stillness mean? 
A minute's pause suspends all hearts and 

eyes — 
"In through the breach!" impetuous Azim 

cries ; 
But the cool Caliph, fearful of some wile 



LALLA ROOKH. 113 

In this blank stillness, checks the troops 

awhile. — 
Just then, a figure, with slow step, advanc'd 
Forth from the ruin'd walls, and, as there 

glanc'd 
A sunbeam over it, all eyes could see 
The well-known Silver Veil!—" 'Tis He, 'tis 

He, 
Mokanna, and alone!" they shout around; 
Young Azim from his steed springs to the 

ground — 
**Mine, Holy Caliph! mine," he cries, "the 

task 
To crush yon daring wretch — 'tis all I ask." 
Eager he darts to meet the demon foe. 
Who still across wide heaps of ruin slow 
And falteringly comes, till they are near; 
Then, with a bound, rushes on Azim's spear, 
And, casting off the Veil in falling, shows — 
Oh! — 'tis his Zelica's life-blood that flows! 

*'I meant not, Azim," soothingly she said. 
As on his trembling arm she lean'd her head, 
And, looking in his face, saw anguish there 
Beyond all wounds the quivering flesh can 

bear — 
"I meant not thou shouldst have the pain of 

this:— 
Though death, with thee thus tasted, is a bliss 
Thou wouldst not rob me of, didst thou but 

know 
How oft I've pray'd to God I might die so! 
But the Fiend's venom was too scant and slow; 
To linger on were maddening — and I thought 

8 



114 LALLA ROOKH. 

If once that Veil — nay, look not on it — caught 
The eyes of your fierce soldiery, I should be 
Struck by a thousand death-darts instantly. 
But this is sweeter — oh ! believe me, yes — 
I would not change this sad, but dear caress, 
This death within thy arms I would not give 
For the most smiling life the happiest live ! 
All, that stood dark and drear before the eye 
Of my stray'd soul, is passing swiftly by; 
A light comes o'er me from those looks of love, 
Like the first dawn of mercy from above ; 
And if thy lips but tell me I'm forgiven. 
Angels will echo the blest words in Heaven! 
But live, my Azim ; — oh ! to call thee mine 
Thus once again ! my Azim — dream divine ! 
Live, if thou ever lov'dst me, if to meet 
Thy Zelica hereafter would be sweet, 
Oh, live to pray for her — to bend the knee 
Morning and night before that Deity, 
To whom pure lips and hearts without a stain, 
As thine are, Azim, never breath 'd in vain, — 
And pray that He may pardon her, — may take 
Compassion on her soul for thy dear sake, 
And nought remembering but her love to thee. 
Make her all thine, all His, eternally ! 
Go to those happy fields where first we twin'd 
Our youthful hearts together — every wind 
That meets thee there, fresh from the well- 
known flowers, 
Will bring the sweetness of those innocent 

hours 
Back to thy soul, and mayst thou feel again 
For thy poor Zelica as thou didst then. 
So shall thy orisons, like dew that flies 



LALLA ROOKH. 115- 

To Heaven upon the morning's sunshine, rise 
With all love's earliest ardor to the skies! 
And should they — but, alas, my senses fail — 
Oh, for one minute ! — should thy prayers pre- 
vail — 
If pardon 'd souls may, from that World of Bliss, 
Reveal their joy to those they love in this — 
I'll come to thee — in some sweet dream — and 

tell— 
Oh Heaven — I die — dear love ! — farewell, fare- 
well!" 

Time fleeted — years on years had pass'd 

away. 
And few of those who, on that mournful day, 
Had stood, with pity in their eyes, to see 
The maiden's death and the youth's agony, 
Were living still — when, by a rustic grave. 
Beside the swift Amoo's transparent wave, 
An aged man, who had grown aged there 
By that lone grave, morning and night in 

prayer. 
For the last time knelt down — and, though the 

shade 
Of death hung darkening over him, there play'd 
A gleam of rapture on his eye and cheek. 
That brighten'd even Death — like the last 

streak 
Of intense glory on the horizon's brim. 
When night o'er all the rest hangs chill and 

dim. 
His soul had seen a Vision, while he slept ; 
She, for whose spirit he had pray'd and wept 
So many years, had come to him, all drest 



116 LALLA ROOKH. 

In angel smiles, and told him she was blest ! 
For this the old man breath 'd his thanks, and 

died, — 
And there, upon the banks of that lov'd tide, 
He and his Zelica sleep side by side. 

The story of the Veiled Prophet of Khorassan 
being ended, they were now doomed to hear 
Fadladeen's criticisms upon it. A series of 
disappointments and accidents had occurred to 
his learned Chamberlain during the journey. 
In the first place, those couriers stationed, as 
in the reign of Shah Jehan, between Delhi and 
the Western coast of India, to secure a con- 
stant supply of mangoes for the Royal Table, 
had, by some cruel irregularity, failed in their 
duty; and to eat any mangoes but those of 
Mazagong was, of course, impossible. ^49 In 
the next place, the elephant, laden with his 
fine antique porcelain, ^so had, in an unusual fit 
of liveliness, shattered the whole set to pieces: 
— an irreparable loss, as many of the vessels 
were so exquisitely old as to have been used 
under the Emperors Yan and Chun, who 
reigned many ages before the dynasty of 
Tang. His Koran, too, supposed to be the 
identical copy between the leaves of which 
Mahomet's favorite pigeon used to nestle, had 
"been mislaid by his Koran-bearer three whole 
days ; not without much spiritual alarm to Fad- 
ladeen, who, though professing to hold with 
other loyal and orthodox Mussulmans, that sal- 
vation should only be found in the Koran, was 
strongly suspected of believing, in his heart, 



LALLA ROOKH. 117 

that it could only be found in his own particu- 
lar copy of it. When to all these grievances is 
added the obstinacy of the cooks, in putting 
the pepper of Canara into his dishes instead of 
the cinnamon of Serendib, we may easily sup- 
pose that he came to the task of criticism with, 
at least, a sufficient degree of irritability for 
the purpose. 

"In order," said he, importantly swinging 
about his chaplet of pearls, "to convey with 
clearness my opinion of the story this young 
man has related, it is necessary to take a re- 
view of all the stories that have ever " 

— "My good Fadladeen!" exclaimed the 
Princess, interrupting him, "we really do not 
deserve that you should give yourself so much 
trouble. Your opinion of the poem we have 
just heard will, I have no doubt, be abun- 
dantly edifying, without any further waste of 
your valuable erudition." — ''If that be all," 
replied the critic, — evidently mortified at not 
being allowed to show how much he knew 
about everything but the subject immediately 
before him, — "if that be all that is required 
the matter is easily dispatched." He then 
proceeded to analyze the poem, in that strain 
(so well known to the unfortunate bards of 
Delhi) whose censures were an infliction from 
which few recovered, and whose very praises 
were like the honey extracted from the bitter 
flowers of the aloe. The chief personages of 
the story were, if he rightly understood them, 
an ill-favored gentleman, with a veil over his 
face; — a young lady, whose reason went and 



118 LALLA ROOKH. 

came, according as it suited the poet's conve- 
nience to be sensible or otherwise; — and a 
youth in one of those hideous Bucharian bon- 
nets, who took the aforesaid gentleman in a 
veil for a Divinity. *'From such materials," 
said he, "what can be expected? — after rival- 
ing each other in long speeches and absurdities, 
through some thousands of lines as indigesti- 
ble as the filberts of Berdaa, our friend in the 
veil jumps into a tub of aquafortis; the young 
lady dies in a set speech, whose only recom- 
mendation is that it is her last ; and the lover 
lives on to a good old age for the laudable pur- 
pose of seeing her ghost, which he at last hap- 
pily accomplishes, and expires. This, you will 
allow, is a fair summary of the story; and if 
Nasser, the Arabian merchant, told no bet- 
ter, ^5i our Holy Prophet (to whom be all honor 
and glory !) had no need to be jealous of his 
abilities for story-telling. ' ' 

With respect to the style, it was worthy of 
the matter: — it had not even those politic con- 
trivances of structure, which make up for the 
commonness of the thoughts by the peculiarity 
of the manner, nor that stately poetical phrase- 
ology by which sentiments mean in themselves, 
like the blacksmith's^^z apron converted into a 
banner, are so easily gilt and embroidered into 
consequence. Then, as to the versification, it 
was, to say no worse of it, execrable: it had 
neither the copious flow of Ferdosi, the sweet- 
ness of Hafez, nor the sententious march of 
Sadi; but appeared to him, in the uneasy 
heaviness of its movements, to have been mod- 



LALLA ROOKH. 119 

eled upon the gait of a very tired dromedary. 
The licenses, too, in which it indulged, were 
unpardonable ; — for instance, this line, and the 
poem abounded with such : — 

Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream. 

"What critic that can count," said Fadla- 
deen, "and has his full complement of fingers to 
count withal, would tolerate for an instant 
such syllabic superfluities?" He here looked 
round, and discovered that most of his audi- 
ence were asleep ; while the glimmering lamps 
seemed inclined to follow their example. It 
became necessary, therefore, however painful 
to himself, to put an end to his valuable anim- 
adversions for the present, and he accord- 
ingly concluded, with an air of dignified candor 
thus: "Notwithstanding the observations 
which I have thought it my duty to make, it is 
by no means my wish to discourage the young 
man: — so far from it, indeed, that if he will 
but totally alter his style of writing and think- 
ing, I have very little doubt that I shall be 
vastly pleased with him." 

Some days elapsed after this harangue of the 
Great Chamberlain, before Lalla Rookh could 
venture to ask for another story. The youth 
was still a welcome guest in the pavilion — to 
one heart, perhaps, too dangerously welcome: 
— but all mention of poetry was, as if by com- 
mon consent, avoided. Though none of the 
party had much respect for Fadladeen, yet 
his censures thus magisterially delivered, evi- 
dently made an impression on them all. The 



120 LALLA ROOKH. 

Poet himself to whom criticism was quite a new 
operation (being wholly unknown in that Para- 
dise of the Indies, Cashmere), felt the shock 
as it is generally felt at first, till use has made 
it more tolerable to the patient; — the Ladies 
began to suspect that they ought not to be 
pleased, and seemed to conclude that there 
must have been much good sense in what Fad- 
ladeen said, from its having sent them all so 
soundly to sleep; — while the self-complacent 
Chamberlain was left to triumph in the idea of 
having for the hundred and fiftieth time in 
his life, extinguished a Poet. Lalla Rookh 
alone — and Love knew why — persisted in being 
delighted with all she had heard, and in resolv- 
ing to hear more as speedily as possible. Her 
manner, however, of first returning to the 
subject was unlucky. It was while they rested 
during the heat of noon near a fountain, on 
which some hand had rudely traced those well- 
known words from the Garden of Sadi, — 
"Many, like me, have viewed this fountain, but 
they are gone, and their eyes are closed for- 
ever!" — that she took occasion, from the mel- 
ancholy beauty of this passage to dwell upon 
the charms of poetry in general. "It is true, " 
she said, "few poets can imitate that sublime 
bird, which flies always in the air, and never 
touches the earth :^53 — it is only once in many 
ages a Genius appears, whose words, like those 
on the Written Mountain, last forever :i54 but 
still there are some, as delightful, perhaps, 
though not so wonderful, who, if not stars 
over our head, are at least flowers along our 



LALLA ROOKH. 121 

path, and whose sweetness of the moment we 
ought gratefully to inhale, without calling upon 
them for a brightness and durability beyond 
their nature. In short," continued she, blush- 
ing, as if conscious of being caught in an ora- 
tion '*it is quite cruel that a poet cannot wander 
through his regions of enchantment, without 
having a critic forever, like the old Man of the 
Sea, upon his back!"i55 — Fadladeen, it was 
plain, took this last luckless allusion to himself, 
and would treasure it up in his mind as a 
whetstone for his next criticism. A sudden 
silence ensued; and the Princess, glancing a 
look at Fernmorz, saw plainly she must wait 
for a more courageous moment. 

But the glories of Nature, and her wild 
fragrant airs, playing freshly over the current 
of youthful spirits, will soon heal even deeper 
wounds than the dull Fadladeens of this world 
can inflict. In an evening or two after, they 
came to the small Valley of Gardens, which 
had been planted by order of the Emperor, for 
his favorite sister Rochinara, during their pro- 
gress to Cashmere, some years before; and 
never was there a more sparkling assemblage 
of sweets, since the Gulzar-e-Irem, or Rose- 
bower of Irem. Every precious flower was 
there to be found that poetry, or love, or 
religion has ever consecrated; from the dark 
hyacinth, to which Hafez compares his mis- 
tress's hair, 156 to the Camalaia, by whose rosy 
blossoms the heaven of Indra is scented. ^57 As 
they sat in the cool fragrance of this delicious 
spot, and Lalla Rookh remarked that she could 



122 LALLA ROOKH. 

fancy it the abode of that Flower-loving 
Nymph whom they worship in the temples of 
Kathay,i58 or of one of those Peris, those beau- 
tiful creatures of the air, who live upon per- 
fumes, and to whom a place like this might 
make some amends for the Paradise they have 
lost, — the young Poet, in whose eyes she 
appeared, while she spoke, to be one of the 
bright spiritual creatures she was describing, 
said hesitatingly that he remembered a Story 
of a Peri, which, if *the Princess had no objec- 
tion, he would venture to relate. "It is," said 
he, with an appealing look to Fadladeen, "in 
a lighter and humbler strain than the other;" 
then, striking a few careless but melancholy 
chords on his kitar, he thus began : — 

PARADISE AND THE PERI. 

One morn a Peri at the gate 
Of Eden stood, disconsolate: 
And as she listen 'd to the Springs 

Of Life within, like music flowing, 
And caught the light upon her wings 

Through the half-open portal glowing, 
She wept to think her recreant race 
Should e'er have lost that glorious place! 

"How happy," exclaim'd this child of air, 
"Are the holy Spirits who wander there, 

'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall; 
Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea, 
And the stars themselves have flowers for me, 

One blossom of Heaven outblooms them all. 



LALLA ROOKH. 123 

*' Though sunny the Lake of cool Cashmere, 
With its plane-tree Isle reflected clear, ^59 

And sweetly the founts of that Valley fall ; 
Though bright are the waters of Sing-su-hay, 
And the golden floods that thitherward stray, ^^o 
Yet — oh, 'tis only the Blest can say 

How the waters of Heaven outshine them all I 

**Go, wing thy flight from star to star, 
From world to luminous world, as far 

As the universe spreads its flaming wall : 
Take all the pleasures of all the spheres. 
And multiply each through endless years, 

One minute of Heaven is worth them all!" 

The glorious Angel, who was keeping 
The gates of Light, beheld her weeping ; 
And, as he nearer drew and listen'd 
To her sad song, a tear-drop glisten'd 
Within his eyelids, like the spray 

From Eden's fountain, when it lies 
On the blue flower, which — Brahmins say — 

Blooms nowhere but in Paradise. ^^^ 

*' Nymph of a fair but erring line!" 
Gently he said — "One hope is thine. 
'Tis written in the Book of Fate, 

*The Peri yet may be forgiven 
Who brings to this Eternal gate 

The Gift that is most dear to Heaven 1' 
Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin — 
'Tis sweet to let the Pardon'd in." 



124 LALLA ROOKH. 

Rapidly as comets run 

To the embraces of the Sun ; — 

Fleeter than the starry brands 

Flung at night from angel hands, i*^ 

At those dark and daring sprites 

Who would climb the empyreal heights, 

Down the blue vault the Peri flies, 

And, lighted earthward by a glance 
That just then broke from morning's eyes. 

Hung hovering o'er our world's expanse. 

But whither shall the Spirit go 

To find this gift from Heaven? — "I know 

The wealth," she cries, "of every urn, 

In which unnumber'd rubies burn, 

Beneath the pillars of Chilminar;i63 

I know where the Isles of Perfume are, 

Many a fathom down in the sea, 

To the south of sun-bright Araby;i64 

I know, too, where the Genii hid 

The jewell'd cup of their King Jamshid,i65 

With Life's elixir sparkling high — 

But gifts like these are not for the sky. 

Where was there ever a gem that shone 

Like the steps of Alla's wonderful Throne? 

And the Drops of Life — oh ! what would they 

be 
In the boundless Deep of Eternity?" 

While thus she mus'd, her pinions fann'd 
The air of that sweet Indian land. 
Whose air is balm ; whose ocean spreads 
O'er coral rocks, and amber bedsi^^s 
Whose mountains, pregnant by the beam 



LALLA ROOKH. 125 

Of the warm sun, with diamonds teem ; 
Whose rivulets are like rich brides, 
Lovely, with gold beneath their tides ; 
Whose sandal groves and bowers of spice 
Might be a Peri's Paradise! 

But crimson now her rivers ran 

With human blood — the smell of death 
Came reeking from those spicy bowers. 
And man, the sacrifice of man. 

Mingled his taint with every breath 
Upwafted from the innocent flowers. 
Land of the Sun, what foot invades 
Thy Pagods and thy pillar 'd shades ^^7 — 
Thy cavern shrines, and Idol stones, 
Thy Monarchs and their thousand Thrones?^ 

'Tis he of Gazna ^^^ — fierce in wrath 

He comes, and India's diadems 
Lie scatter'd in his ruinous path. — 

His bloodhounds he adorns with gems, 
Torn from the violated necks 

Of many a young and lov'd Sultana ;*7o 

Maidens, within their pure Zenana, 

Priests in the very fane of slaughters, 
And chokes up with the glittering wrecks 

Of golden shrines the sacred waters! 
Downward the Peri turns her gaze, 
And, through the war-fleld's bloody haze, 
Beholds a youthful warrior stand. 

Alone, beside his native river, — 
The red blade broken in his hand, 

And the last arrow in his quiver. 
*'Live," said the Conqueror, *'live to share 



126 LALLA ROOKH. 

The trophies and the crowns I bear!'" 
Silent that youthful warrior stood — 
Silent he pointed to the flood 
All crimson with his country's bloody 
Then sent his last remaining- dart, 
For answer, to the Invader's heart. 

False flew the shaft, though pointed well ; 
The Tyrant liv'd, the Hero felH— 
Yet mark'd the Peri where he lay^ 

And, when the rush of war was past, 
Swiftly descending on a ray 

Of morning light, she caught the last, 
Last glorious drop his heart had shed, 
Before its free-born spirit fled! 

"Be this," she cried, as she wing'd her flighty 
"My welcome gift at the Gates of Light. 
Though foul are the drops that oft distil 

On the field of warfare, blood like this. 

For Liberty shed, so holy is,^7i 
It would not stain the purest rill 

That sparkles among the Bowers of Bliss I 
Oh, if there be, on this earthly sphere, 
A boon, an offering Heaven holds dear, 
'Tis the last libation Liberty draws 
From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her 
cause!" 

** Sweet," said the Angel, as she gave 

The gift into his radiant hand, 
"Sweet is our welcome of the Brave 

Who die thus for their native Land-*^ 
But see — alas ! — the crystal bar 



LALLA ROOKH. 127 

Of Eden moves not — holier far 
Than even this drop the boon must be, 
That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee!" 
Her first fond hope of Eden blighted. 

Now among Afric's lunar mountains, 172 
Far to the South the Peri lighted ; 

And sleek 'd her plumage at the fountains 
Of that Egyptian tide — whose birth 
Is hidden from the sons of earth 
Deep in those solitary woods, 
Where oft the Genii of the Floods 
Dance round the cradle of their Nile, 
And hail the new-born Giant's smile. ^73 
Thence over Egypt's palmy groves, 
Her grots, and sepulchres of Kings, ^74 
The exil'd Spirit sighing roves; 
And now hangs listening to the doves 
In warm Rosetta's vale^^s — now loves 
To watch the moonlight on the wings 
Of the white pelicans that break 
The azure calm of Moeris' Lake.^76 
'Twas a fair scene — a Land more bright 
Never did mortal eye behold! 
Who could have thought, that saw this night, 
Those valleys and their fruits of gold. 
Basking in Heaven's serenest light; — 
Those groups of lovely date-trees bending 

Languidly their leaf-crown 'd heads, 
Like youthful maids, when sleep descending 

Warns them to their silken beds;i77 — 
Those virgin lilies, all the night 

Bathing their beauties in the lake. 
That they may rise more fresh and bright, 



128 LALLA ROOKH. 

When their beloved Suns awake ; — 
Those ruin'd shrines and towers that seem 
The relics of a splendid dream ; 

Amid whose fairy loneliness 
Nought but the lapwing's cry is heard, 
Naught seen but (when the shadows, flitting 
Fast from the moon, unsheath its gleam) 
Some purple-wing'd Sultanai78 sitting 

Upon a column, motionless 
And glittering like an Idol bird! 
Who could have thought, that there, even 

there, 
Amid those scenes so still and fair. 
The Demon of the Plague hath cast 
From his hot wing a deadlier blast. 
More mortal far than ever came 
From the Red Desert's sands of flame! 
So quick, that every living thing 
Of human shape, touch'd by his wing, 
Like plants where the Simoon hath past, 
At once falls black and withering! 
The sun went down on many a brow. 

Which, full of bloom and freshness then. 
Is rankling in the pest-house now. 

And ne'er will feel that sun again. 
And, oh ! to see the unburied heaps 
On which the lonely moonlight sleeps — 
The very vultures turn away, 
And sicken at so foul a prey! 
Only the fierce hyaena stalksJ79 
Throughout the city's desolate walks^^o 
At midnight, and his carnage plies : — 

Woe to" the half- dead wretch, who meets 
The glaring of those large blue eyes^^i 



LALLA ROOKH. ^ 129 

Amid the darkness of the streets! 
''Poor race of men!" said the pitying Spirit, 

''Dearly ye pay for your primal Fall — 
Some flow'rets of Eden ye still inherit, 

But the trail of the Serpent is over them all ! ' ' 
She wept — the air grew pure and clear 

Around her, as the bright drops ran ; 
For there's a magic in each tear 

Such kindly Spirits weep for man ! 
Just then beneath some orange trees, 
Whose fruit and blossoms in the breeze 
Were wantoning together, free, 
Like age at play with infancy — 
Beneath that fresh and springing bower, 

Close by the Lake, she heard the moan 
Of one who, at this silent hour, 

Had thither stolen to die alone. 
One who in life, where'er he mov'd, 

Drew after him the hearts of many; 
Yet now, as though he ne'er were lov'd, 

Dies here unseen, unwept by any! 
None to watch near him — none to slake 

The fire that in his bosom lies. 
With even a sprinkle from that lake, 

Which shines so cool before his eyes. 
No voice, well known through many a day, 

To speak the last, the parting word, 
Which, when all other sounds decay, 

Is still like distant music heard ; — 
That tender farewell on the shore 
Of this rude world, when all is o'er, 
Which cheers the spirit, ere its bark 
Puts off into the unknown Dark. 
Deserted youth ! one thought alone 

9 



130 LALLA ROOKH. 

Shed joy around his soul in death — 
That she, whom he for years had known, 
And lov'd, and might have call'd his own, 

Was safe from this foul midnight's breath, — • 
Safe in her father's princely halls, 
Where the cruel airs from fountain falls. 
Freshly perfum'd by many a brand 
Of the sweet wood from India's land. 
Were pure as she whose brow they fann'd. 

But see — who yonder comes by stealth, ^^^ 

This melancholy bower to seek, 
Like a young envoy, sent by Health, 

With rosy gifts upon her cheek? 
'Tis she! — far off, through moonlight dim, 

He knew his own betrothed bride, 
She, who would rather die with him. 

Than live to gain the world beside ! — 
Her arms are round her lover now. 

His livid cheek to hers she presses, 
And dips, to bind his burning brow. 

In the cool lake her loosen'd tresses. 

Ah! once, how little did he think 

An hour would come, when she should shrink 

With horror from that dear embrace, 

Those gentle arms, that were to him 
Holy as is the cradling place 

Of Eden's infant cherubim! 
And now he yields — now turns away. 
Shuddering as if the venom lay 
All in those proffer' d lips alone — 
Those lips that, then so fearless grown, 
Never until that instant came 



LALLA ROOKH. 131 

Near his unask'd or without shame. 
"Oh! let me only breathe the air, 

That blessed air, that's breath'd by thee, 
And, whether on its wings it bear 

Healing or death, 'tis sweet to me! 
There — drink my tears, while yet they fall — 

Would that my bosom's blood were balm, 
And, well thou know'st, I'd shed it all, 

To give thy brow one minute's calm. 
Nay, turn not from me that dear face — 

Am I not thine — thy own lov'd bride — 
The one, the chosen one, whose place 

In life or death is by thy side? 
Think 'st thou that she, whose only light. 

In this dim world, from thee hath shone. 
Could bear the long, the cheerless night, 

That must be hers when thou art gone? 
That I can live, and let thee go. 
Who art my life itself? — No, no — 
W^hen the stem dies, the leaf that grew 
Out of its heart must perish too ! 
Then turn to me, my own love, turn, 
Before, like thee, I fade and burn ; 
Cling to these yet cool lips, and share 
The last pure life that lingers there!" 
She fails — she sinks — as dies the lamp 
In charnel airs, or cavern damp. 
So quickly do his baleful sighs 
Quench all the sweet light of her eyes. 
One struggle — and his pain is past — 

Her lover is no longer living! 
One kiss the maiden gives, one last. 

Long kiss, which she expires in giving! 



132 LALLA ROOKH. 

* 'Sleep," said the Peri, as softly she stole 
The farewell sigh of that vanishing sotil, 
As true as e'er warm'd a woman's breast — 
"Sleep on, in visions of odor rest. 
In balmier airs than ever yet stirr'd 
The enchanted pile of that lonely bird 
Who sings at the last his own death-lay, ^^3 
And in music and perfume dies away!" 

Thus saying, from her lips she spread 

Unearthly breathings through the place. 
And shook her sparkling wreath, and shed 

Such lustre o'er each paly face. 
That like two lovely saints they seem'd, 

Upon the eve of doomsday taken 
From their dim graves, in odor sleeping; 
While that benevolent Peri beam'd 
Like their good angel, calmly keeping 

Watch o'er them till their souls would waken. 

But morn is blushing in the sky ; 

Again the Peri soars above. 
Bearing to Heaven that precious sigh 

Of pure self-sacrificing love. 
High throbb'd her heart, with hope elate, 

The Elysian palm she soon shall win, 
For the bright Spirit at the gate 

Smil'd as she gave that offering in; 
And she already hears the trees 

Of Eden, with their crystal bells 
Ringing in that ambrosial breeze 

That from the throne of Alia swells; 
And she can see the starry bowls 

That lie around that lucid lake. 



LALLA ROOKH. 133 

Upon whose banks admitted Souls 

Their first sweet draught of glory take I^^^ 

But, ah ! even Peris' hopes are vain : — 

Again the Fates forbade, again 

The immortal barrier clos'd: — "Not yet,'* 

The Angel said as, with regret, 

He shut from her that glimpse of glory — 

''True was the maiden, and her story, 

Written in light o'er Alla's head, 

By seraph eyes shall long be read. 

But, Peri, see — the crystal bar 

Of Eden moves not — holier far 

Than even this sigh the boon must be 

That opes the Gates of Heaven for thee.** 

Now, upon Syria's land of roses ^^5 
Softly the light of Eve reposes, 
And, like a glory, the broad sun 
Hangs over sainted Lebanon; 
Whose head in wintry grandeur towers, 

And whitens with eternal sleet. 
While summer, in a vale of flowers, 
Is sleeping rosy at his feet. 

To one, who look'd from upper air 
O'er all the enchanted regions there, 
How beauteous must have been the glow. 
The life, the sparkling, from below! 
Fair gardens, shining streams, with ranks 
Of golden melons on their banks. 
More golden where the sunlight falls; 
Gay lizards, glittering on the walls ^^ 
Of ruin'd shrines, busy and bright 



134 LALLA ROOKH. 

As they were all alive with light ; 

And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks 

Of pigeons, settling on the rocks. 

With their rich restless wings, that gleam 

Variously in the crimson beam 

Of the warm West, — as if inlaid 

With brilliants from the mine, or made 

Of tearless rainbows, such as span 

The unclouded skies of Peristan. 

And then the mingling sounds that come 

Of shepherd's ancient reed,^^; with hum 

Of the wild bees of Palestine, ^§8 

Banqueting through the flow'ry vales; 
And, Jordan, those sweet banks of thine, 

And woods, so full of nightingales, ^^g 

But nought can charm the luckless Peri; 
Her soul is sad — her wings are weary — 
Joyless she sees the Sun look down 
On that great Temple, once his own,i9o 
Whose lonely columns stand sublime. 

Flinging their shadows from on high, 
Like dials, which the v/izard, Time, 

Had rais'd to count his ages by! 
Yet haply there may lie conceal'd 

Beneath those Chambers of the Sun, 
Some amulet of gems anneal'd 
In upper fires, some tablet seal'd 

With the great name of Solomon, 

Which, spell'd by her illumin'd eyes. 
May teach her where, beneath the moon. 
In earth or ocean, lies the boon, 
The charm, that can restore so soon 

An erring Spirit to the skies. 



LALLA ROOKH. 135 

Cheer'd by this hope she bends her thither; 

Still laughs the radiant eye of Heaven, 

Nor have the golden bowers of Even 
In the rich West begun to wither; — 
When, o'er the vale of Balbec winging 

Slowly she sees a child at play, 
Among the rosy wild flowers singing, 

As rosy and as wild as they ; 
Chasing, with eager hands and eyes, 
The beautiful blue damsel-flies, ^91 
That flutter'd round the jasmine stems* 
Like winged flowers or flying gems : — 
And, near the boy, who tir'd with play 
Now nestling 'mid the roses lay, 
She saw a wearied man dismount 

From his hot steed, and on the brink 
Of a small imaret's rustic fount ^^2 
Impatient fling him down to drink. 
Then swift his haggard brow he turn'd 

To the fair child, who fearless sat. 
Though never yet hath day-beam burn'd 

Upon a brow more fierce than that, — 
Sullenly fierce — a mixture dire. 
Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire; 
In which the Peri's eye could read 
Dark tales of many a ruthless deed; 
The ruin'd maid — the shrine profan'd — 
Oaths broken — and the threshold stain'd 
With blood of guests — there written, all, 
Black as the damning drops that fall 
From the denouncing Angel's pen, 
Ere Mercy weeps them out again. 



136 LALLA ROOKH. 

Yet tranquil now that man of crime 
(As if the balmy evening time 
Soften'd his spirit) look'd and lay, 
Watching the rosy infant's play: — 
Though still, when'er his eye by chance 
Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance 

Met that unclouded joyous gaze, 
As torches that have burnt all night 
Through some impure and godless rite, 

Encounter morning's glorious rays. 

But, hark ! the vesper call to prayer, 

As slow the orb of daylight sets, 
Is rising sweetly on the air, 

From Syria's thousand minarets! 
The boy has started from the bed 
Of flowers, where he had laid his head, 
And down upon the fragrant sod 

Kneels, ^93 with his forehead to the south, 
Lisping the eternal name of God 

From Purity's own cherub mouth, 
And looking, while his hands and eyes 
Are lifted to the glowing skies, 
Like a stray babe of Paradise. 
Just lighted on that flowery plain, 
And seeking for its home again. 
Oh ! 'twas a sight — that Heaven — that child- 
A scene, which might have well beguil'd 
Even haughty Eblis of a sigh 
For glories lost and peace gone by ! 

And how felt he, the wretched Man 
Reclining there — while memory ran 
O'er many a year of guilt and strife, 



LALLA ROOKH. 137 

Flew o'er the dark flood of his life, 

Nor found one sunny resting-place, 

Nor brought him back one branch of grace! 

"There was a time," he said, in mild, 

Heart-humbled tones — "thou blessed child! 

When, young and haply pure as thou, 

I look'd and pray'd like thee; but now — " 

He hung his head — each nobler aim, 

And hope, and feeling, which had slept 
From boyhood's hour, that instant came 

Fresh o'er him, and he wept — he wept! 
Blest tears of soul-felt penitence! 

In whose benign, redeeming flow 
Is felt the first, the only sense 

Of guiltless joy that guilt can know. 
"There's a drop," said the Peri, "that down 

from the moon 
Falls through the withering airs of June 
Upon Egypt's land,*94 of so healing a power, 
So balmy a virtue, that e'en in the hour 
The drop descends, contagion dies, 
And health re-animates earth and skies! 
Oh, is it not thus, thou man of sin, 

The precious tears of repentance fall? 
Though foul thy fiery plagues within 

One heavenly drop hath dispell 'd them all!" 

And now — behold him kneeling there 

By the child's side, in humble prayer, 

"While the same sunbeam shines upon 

The guilty and the guiltless one, 

And hymns of joy proclaim through Heaven 

The triumph of a Soul Forgiven ! 

'Twas when the golden orb had set, 



138 LALLA ROOKH. 

While on their knees they linger'd yet 
There fell a light more lovely far 
Than ever came from sun or star, 
Upon the tear that, warm and meek, 
Dew'd that repentant sinner's cheek. 
To mortal eye this light might seem 
A northern flash or meteor beam — 
But well the enraptur'd Peri knew 
*Twas a bright smile the Angel threw 
From Heaven's gate, to hail that tear 
Her harbinger of glory near! 

*'Joy, joy forever! my task is done — 
The Gates are pass'd, and Heaven is won! 
Oh! am I not happy? I am, I am — 

To thee, sweet Eden! how dark and sad 
Are the diamond turrets of Shadukiam,i95 

And the fragrant bowers of i^mberabad! 
Farewell, ye odors of Earth, that die 
Passing away like a lover's sigh; — 
My feast is now of the Tooba Tree,i96 
Whose scent is the breath of Eternity! 
Farewell, ye vanishing flowers, that shone 

In my fairy wreath, so bright and brief; — 
Oh! what are the brightest that e'er have 

blown. 
To the lote-tree, springing by Alla's throne, *97 

Whose flowers have a soul in every leaf! 
Joy, joy forever! — my task is done — 
The Gates are pass'd, and Heaven is won!" 

"And this," said the Great Chamberlain, **is 
poetry! this flimsy manufacture of the brain, 
which, in comparison with the lofty and dur- 



LALLA ROOKH. 139 

able monuments of genius, is as the gold 
filigree-work of Zamara besides the eternal 
architecture of Egypt!" After this gorgeous 
sentence, which, with a few more of the same 
kind, Fadladeen kept by him for rare and im- 
portant occasions, he proceeded to the anatomy 
of the short poem just recited. The lax and 
easy kind of metre in which it was written 
ought to be denounced, he said, as one of the 
leading causes of the alarming growth o^ 
poetry in our times. If some check were not 
given to this lawless facility, we should soon be 
overrun by a race of bards as numerous and as 
shallow as the hundred and twenty thousand 
Streams of Basra. 198 They who succeeded in this 
style deserved chastisement for their very suc- 
cess; — as warriors have been punished, even 
after gaining a victory, because they had taken 
the liberty of gaining it in an irregular or un- 
established manner. What, then, was to be 
said to those who failed? to those who pre- 
sumed, as in the present lamentable instance, 
to imitate the license and ease of the bolder 
sons of song, without any of that grace or vigor 
which gave a dignity even to negligence ; — who, 
like them, flung the jereed ^99 carelessly, but not 
like them, to the mark; — "and who," said he, 
raising his voice, to excite a proper degree of 
wakefulness in his hearers, "contrive to appear 
heavy and constrained in the midst of all the 
latitude they allow themselves, like one of 
those young pagans that dance before the Prin- 
cess, who is ingenious enough to move as if 



140 LALLA ROOKH. 

her limbs were fettered, in a pair of the light- 
est and loosest drawers of Masulipatam!" — 

It was but little suitable, he continued, to the 
grave march of criticism to follow this fantas- 
tical Peri, of whom they had just heard, through 
all her flights and adventures between earth 
and heaven ; but he could not help adverting 
to the puerile conceitedness of the Three Gifts 
which she is supposed to carry to the skies, — a 
drop of blood, forsooth a sigh, and a tear! 
How the first of these articles was delivered 
into the Angel's "radiant hand" he professed 
himself at a loss to discover; and as to the safe 
carriage of the sigh and the tear, such Peris 
and such poets were being by far too incom- 
prehensible for him even to guess how they 
managed such matters. "But, in short," said 
he, "it is a waste of time and patience to dwell 
longer upon a thing so incurably frivolous, — 
puny even among its own puny race, and such 
as only the Banyan Hospital 2&0 for Sick Insects 
should undertake." 

In vain did Lalla Rookh try to soften this 
inexorable critic ; in vain did she resort to her 
most eloquent common-places, — reminding 
him that poets were a timid and sensitive race, 
whose sweetness was not to be drawn forth, 
like that of the fragrant grass near the Ganges, 
by crushing and trampling upon them; 201 — 
that severity often extinguished every chance 
of the perfection which it demanded ; and that, 
after all, perfection was like the Mountain of 
the Talisman, — no one had ever yet reached its 
summit. 202 Neither these gentle axioms, nor 



LALLA ROOKH. 141 

the still gentler looks with which they were in- 
culcated, could lower for one instant the eleva- 
tion of Fadladeen's eyebrows, or charm him 
into anything like encouragement, or even 
toleration of her poet. Toleration, indeed, was 
not among the weaknesses of Fadladeen : — he 
carried the same spirit into matters of poetry 
and of religion, and, though little versed in the 
beauties or sublimities of either, was a perfect 
master of the art of persecution in both. His 
zeal was the same, too, in either pursuit; 
whether the game before him was pagans, or 
poetasters, — worshippers of cows, or writers of 
epics. 

They had now arrived at the splendid city of 
Lahore, whose mausoleums and shrines, mag- 
nificent and numberless, where Death appeared 
to share equal honors with Heaven, would have 
powerfully affected the heart and imagination 
of Lalla Rookh, if feelings more of this earth 
had not taken entire possession of her already. 

She was here met by messengers, dispatched 
from Cashmere, who informed her that the 
King had arrived in the Valley, and was himself 
superintending the sumptuous preparations 
that were then making in the Saloons of the 
Shalimar for her reception. The chill she felt 
on receiving this intelligence, — which to a bride 
whose heart was free and light would have 
brought only images of affection and pleasure, 
— convinced her that her peace was gone for- 
ever, and that she was in love, irretrivably in 
love, with young Feramorz. The veil had 
fallen off in which this passion at first disguises 



142 LALLA ROOKH. 

itself, and to know that she loved was now as 
painful as to love without knowing it had been, 
delicious. Feramorz, too, — what misery would 
be his, if the sweet hours of intercourse so im- 
prudently allowed them should have stolen into 
his heart the same fatal fascination as into hers ; 
— if, notwithstanding her rank, and the modest 
homage he always paid to it, even he should 
have yielded to the influence of those long and 
happy interviews, where music, poetry, the 
delightful scenes of nature, — all had tended to 
bring their hearts close together, and to waken, 
by every means that too ready passion, which 
often, like the young of the desert-bird, is 
warmed into life by the eyes alone ! 203 She 
saw but one way to preserve herself from being 
culpable as well as unhappy, and this, however 
painful, she was resolved to adopt. Feramorz 
must no more be admitted to her presence. 
To have strayed so far into the dangerous laby- 
rinth was wrong, but to linger in it, while the 
clew was yet in her hand, would be criminal. 
Though the heart she had to offer to the King 
of Bucharia might be cold and broken, it should 
at least be pure ; and she must only endeavor 
to forget the short dream of happiness she had 
enjoyed, — like that Arabian shepherd, who, in 
wandering into the wilderness, caught a 
glimpse of the Gardens of Irem, and then lost 
them again forever! 204 

The arrival of the young Bride at Lahore 
was celebrated in the most enthusiastic manner. 
The Rajas and Omras in her train, who had 
kept at a certain distance during the journey. 



LALLA ROOKH. 143 

and never encamped nearer to the Princess 
than was strictly necessary for her safeguard, 
here rode in splendid cavalcade through the 
city, and distributed the most costly presents 
to the crowd. Engines were erected in all the 
squares, which cast forth showers of confec- 
tionery among the people ; while the artisans, 
in chariots, 205 adorned with tinsel and flying 
streamers, exhibited the badges of their 
respective trades through the streets. Such 
brilliant displays of life and pageantry among 
the palaces, and domes, and gilded minarets of 
Lahore, made the city altogether like a place 
of enchantment ; — particularly on the day when 
Lalla Rookh set out again upon her journey, 
when she was accompanied to the gate by all 
the fairest and richest of the nobility, and rode 
along between ranks of beautiful boys and girls, 
who kept waving over their heads plates of gold 
and silver flowers, 206 and then threw them 
around to be gathered by the populace. 

For many days after their departure from 
Lahore, a considerable degree of gloom hung 
over the whole party. Lalla Rookh, who had 
intended to make illness her excuse for not 
admitting the young minstrel, as usual to the 
pavilion, soon found that to feign indisposition 
was unnecessary; — Fadladeen felt the loss of 
the good road they had hitherto traveled, and 
was very near cursing Jehan-Guire (of blessed 
memory!) for not having continued his delect- 
able alley of trees, 207 at least as far as the 
mountains of Cashmere;— while the Ladies, 
who had nothing now to do all day but to be 



144 LALLA ROOKH. 

fanned by peacocks' feathers and listen to 
Fadladeen, seemed heartily weary of the life 
they led, and, in spite of all the Great Cham- 
berlain's criticisms, were so tasteless as to wish 
for the poet again. One evening, as they were 
proceeding to their place of rest for the night, 
the Princess, who, for the freer enjoyment of 
the air, had mounted her favorite Arabian pal- 
frey, in passing by a small grove, heard the 
notes of a lute from within its leaves, and a 
voice, which she but too well knew, singing 
the following words: — 

Tell me not of joys above. 

If that world can give no bliss, 

Truer, happier than the Love 
Which enslaves our souls in this. 

Tell me not of Houris' eyes; — 

Far from me their dangerous glow, 

If those looks that light the skies 
Wound like some that burn below. 

Who, that feels what Love is here, 
All its falsehood — all its pain — 

Would, for even Elysium's sphere, 
Risk the fatal dream again? 

Who, that 'midst a desert's heat 
Sees the waters fade away. 

Would not rather die than meet 
Streams again as false as they? 

The tone of melancholy defiance in which these 
words were uttered, went to Lalla Rookh's 



LALLA.ROOKH. 145 

heart; — and, as she reluctantly rode on, she 
could not help feeling it to be a sad but still 
sweet certainty, that Feramorz was to the full 
as enamoured and miserable as herself. 

The place where they encamped that evening 
was the first delightful spot they had come to 
since they left Lahore. On each side of them 
was a grove full of small Hindoo temples, and 
planted with the most graceful trees of the 
East; where the tamarind, the cassia, and the 
silken plantains of Ceylon were mingled in rich 
contrast with the high fan-like foliage of the 
Palmyra, — that favorite tree of the luxurious 
bird that lights up the chambers of its nest with 
fire-flies. 208 in the middle of the lawn where 
the pavilion stood there was a tank surrounded 
by small mango-trees, on the clear cold waters 
of which floated multitudes of the beautiful red 
lotus ;2°9 while at a distance stood the ruins of a 
strange and awful-looking tower, which seemed 
old enough to have been the temple of some 
religion no longer known, and which spoke the 
voice of desolation in the midst of all that 
bloom and loveliness. This singular ruin 
excited the wonder and conjectures of all. 
Lalla Rookh guessed in vain, and the all-pre- 
tending Fadladeen, who had never till this 
journey been beyond the precincts of Delhi, 
was proceeding most learnedly to show that he 
knew nothing whatever about the matter, when 
one of the Ladies suggested that perhaps Fer- 
amorz could satisfy their curiosity. They were 
now approaching his native mountains, and this 
tower might perhaps be a relic of some of those 
10 



146 LALLA ROOKH. 

dark superstitions which had prevailed in that 
country before the light of Islam dawned upon 
it. The Chamberlain, who usually preferred his 
own ignorance to the best knowledge that any 
one else could give him, wasby no meanspleased 
with this officious reference; and the Princess, 
too, was about to interpose a faint word of 
objection, but, before either of them could 
speak, a slave was despatched for Feramorz, 
who, in a very few minutes, made his appear- 
ance before them — looking so pale and unhappy 
in Lalla Rookh's eyes, that she repented already 
of her cruelty in having so long excluded him. 
That venerable tower, he told them, was the 
remains of an ancient Fire-temple, built by 
those Ghebers or Persians of the old religion, 
who, many hundred years since, had fled hither 
from their Arab conquerors, ^'o preferring lib- 
erty and their altars in a foreign land to the 
alternative of apostasy or persecution in their 
own. It was impossible, he added, not to feel 
interested in the many glorious but unsuccess- 
ful struggles which had been made by these 
original natives of Persia to cast off the yoke 
of their bigoted conquerors. Like their own 
Fire in the Burning Field at Bakou,^" when 
suppressed in one place, they had but broken 
out with fresh flame in another; and, as a 
native of Cashmere, of that fair and Holy Val- 
ley which had in the same manner become the 
prey of strangers,2i2 ^nd seen her ancient shrines 
and native princess swept away before the 
march of her intolerant invaders, he felt a 
.sympathy, he owned, with the sufferings of the 



LALLA ROOKH. 147 

persecuted Ghebers, which every monument 
like this before them but tended more power- 
fully to awaken. 

It was the first time that Feramorz had ever 
ventured upon so much prose before Fadla- 
deen, and it may easily be conceived what 
effect such prose as this must have produced 
upon that most orthodox and most pagen-hating- 
personage. He sat for some minutes aghast, 
ejaculating only at intervals, "Bigoted con- 
querors! — sympathy with Fire-worshippers! "2^3 
— while Feramorz, happy to take advantage 
of this almost speechless horror of the Cham- 
berlain, proceeded to say that he knew a melan- 
choly story, connected with the events of one 
of those struggles of the brave Fire-worship- 
pers against their Arab masters, which, if the 
evening was not too far advanced, he should 
have much pleasure in being allowed to relate 
to the Princess. It was impossible for Lalla 
Rookh to refuse ; — he had never before looked 
as animated ; and when he spoke of the Holy 
Valley, his eyes had sparkled, she thought, 
like the talismanic characters on the scimitar 
of Solomon. Her consent was therefore most 
readil)' granted; and while Fadladeen sat in 
unspeakable dismay, expecting treason and 
abomination in every line, the poet thus began 
his story of the Fire- worshippers: — 



148 LALLA ROOKH 



THE FIRE-WORSHIPPERS. 

'Tis moonlight over Oman's Sea;^^ 

Her banks of pearl and balmy isles 
Bask in the night-beam beauteously, 

And her blue waters sleep in smiles. 
'Tis moonlight in Harmozia's^is walls, 
And through her Emir's porphyry halls, 
Where, some hours since, was heard the swell 
Of trumpet and the clash of zel,^'^ 
Bidding the bright-eyed sun farewell ; — 
The peaceful sun, whom better suits 

The music of the bulbul's nest, 
Or the light touch of lovers' lutes, 

To sing him to his golden rest. 
All hush'd — there's not a breeze in motion; 
The shore is silent as the ocean. 
If zephyrs come, so light they come, 

Nor leaf is stirr'd nor wave is driven; — 
The wind-tower on the Emir's dome 2^7 

Can hardly win a breath from heaven. 

Even he, that tyrant Arab, sleeps 
Calm, while a nation round him weeps; 
While curses load the air he breathes. 
And falchions from unnumber'd sheaths 
Are starting to avenge the shame 
His race hath brought on Iran's 218 name. 



LALLA ROOKH. 149 

Hard, heartless Chief, unmov'd alike 

'Mid eyes that weep, and swords that strike;—: 

One of that saintly, murderous brood, 

To carnage and the Koran given, 
Who think through unbeliever's blood 

Lies their directest path to heaven ; — 
One, who will pause and kneel unshod 

In the warm blood his hand hath pour'd, 
To mutter o'er some text of God 

Engraven on his reeking sword ;2'9 
Nay, who can coolly note the line, 
The letter of those words divine. 
To which his blade, with searching art, 
Had sunk into its victim's heart! 

Just Alia ! what must be thy look, 

When such a wretch before thee stands 
Unblushing, with thy Sacred Book, — 

Turning the leaves with blood-stain'd hands, 
And wresting from its page sublime 
His creed of lust, and hate, and crime ; 
Even as those bees of Trebizond, 

Which, from the sunniest flowers that glad 
With their pure smile the gardens round. 

Draw venom forth that drives men mad. 220 

Never did fierce Arabia send 

A satrap forth more direly great ; 
Never was Iran doom'd to bend 

Beneath a yoke of deadlier weight. 
Her throne had fallen —her pride was crush'd — 
Her sons were willing slaves, nor blush'd. 
In their own land, — no more their own, — 
To crouch beneath a stranger's throne. 



150 LALLA ROOKH. 

Her towers, where Mithra once had burn'd, 
To Moslem shrines— oh shame! — were tnrn'd, 
Where slaves, converted by the sword. 
Their mean, apostate worship pour'd, 
And curs'd the faith their sires ador'd. 
Yet has she hearts, 'mid all this ill. 
O'er all this wreck, high, buoyant still 
With hope and vengeance ; — hearts that yet — 

Like gems, in darkness, issuing rays 
They've treasur'd from the sun that's set, — 

Beam all the light of long-lost days! 
And swords she hath, nor weak not slow 

To second all such hearts can dare ; 
As he shall know, well, dearly know. 

Who sleeps in moonlight luxury there. 
Tranquil as if his spirit lay 
Becalm'd in Heaven's approving ray. 
Sleep on — for purer eyes than thine 
Those waves are hush'd, those planets shine; 
Sleep on, and be thy rest unmov'd 

By the white moonbeam's dazzling power; — ■ 
None but the loving and the lov'd 

Should be awake at this sweet hour. 



And see — where, high above those rocks 
That o'er the deep their shadows fling, 
Yon turret stands; — where ebon locks, 
As glossy as a heron's wing 
Upon the turban of a king,22i 
Hang from the lattice, long and wild — 
'Tis she, that Emir's iDlooming child, 
All truth and tenderness and grace. 
Though born of such ungentle race; — 



LALLA ROOKH. 151 

An image of Youth's radiant Fountain 
Springing in a desolate mountain ! 222 

Oh what a pure and sacred thing 

Is beauty, curtain 'd from the sight 
Of the gross world, illumining 

One only mansion with her light ! 
Unseen by man's disturbing eye, — 

The flower that blooms beneath the sea, 
Too deep for sunbeams, doth not lie 

Hid in more chaste obscurity. 
So, Hinda, have thy face and mind, 

Like holy mysteries, lain enshrin'd. 
And oh, what transport for a lover 

To lift the veil that shades them o'er! — 
Like those, who, all at once, discover 

In the lone deep some fairy shore, 

Where mortal never trod before. 
And sleep and wake in scented airs 
No lip had ever breath'd but theirs. 

Beautiful are the maids that glide. 

On summer-eves, through Yemen's 223 dales. 
And bright the glancing looks they hide 

Behind their litters' roseate veils; — 
And brides, as delicate and fair 
As the white jasmine flowers they wear. 
Hath Yemen in her blissful clime. 

Who, lull'd in cool kiosk or bower,224 
Before their mirrors count the time, 225 

And grow still lovelier every hour. 
But never yet hath bride or maid 

In Araby's gay Haram smil'd, 
Whose boasted brightness would not fade 

Before Al Hassan's blooming child. 



152 LALLA ROOKH. 

Light as the angel shapes that bless 
An infant's dream, yet not the less 
Rich in all woman's loveliness; — 
With eyes so pure, that from their ray 
Dark Vice would turn abash'd away, 
Blinded like serpents when they gaze 
Upon the emerald virgin blaze; 226 — 
Yet fill'd with all youth's sweet desires, 
Mingling the meek and vestal fires 
Of other worlds with all the bliss, 
The fond, weak tenderness of this: 
A soul, too, more than half divine, 

Where, through some shades of earthly 
feeling, 
Religion's softened glories shine. 

Like light through summer foliage stealing, 
Shedding a glow of such mild hue, 
So warm, and yet so shadowy too. 
As makes the very darkness there 
More beautiful than light elsewhere. 

Such is the maid who, at this hour. 

Hath risen from her restless sleep, 
And sits alone in that high bower. 

Watching the still and shining deep. 
Ah! 'twas not thus, — with tearful eyes 

And beating heart, — she used to gaze 
On the magnificent earth and skies, 

In her own land, in happier days. 
Why looks she now so anxious down 
Among those rocks, whose rugged frown 

Blacken the mirror of the deep? 
Whom waits she all this lonely night? 

Too rough the rocks, too bold the steep, 
For man to scale that turret's height! — 



LALLA ROOKH. 153 

So deem'd at last her thoughtful sire, 

When high, to catch the cool night-air, 
After the day-beam's withering fire, 227 

He built her bower of freshness there, 
And had it deck'd with costliest skill. 

And fondly thought it safe as fair: — 
Think, reverend dreamer! think so still, 

Nor wake to learn what Love can dare; — 
Love, all-defying Love, who sees 
No charm in trophies won with ease; 
Whose rarest, dearest fruits of bliss 
Are pluck'd on Danger's precipice! 
Bolder than they who dare not dive 

For pearls, but when the sea's at rest, 
Love, in the tempest most alive. 

Hath ever held that pearl the best 
He finds beneath the stormiest water. 
Yes — Araby's unrival'd daughter, 
I'hough high that tower, that rock-way rude, 

There's one who, but to kiss thy cheek, 
Would climb the untrodden solitude 

Of Ararat's tremendous peak, 228 
And think its steps, though dark and dread, 
Heaven's pathways, if to thee they led! 
Even now thou seest the flashing spray, 
That lights his oar's impatient way; — 
Even now thou hear'st the sudden shock 
Of his swift bark against the rock, 
And stretchest down thy arms of snow, 
As if to lift him from below! 
Like her, to whom at dead of night. 
The bridegroom, with his locks of light,229 
Came, in the flush of love and pride, 
And scal'd the terrace of his bride; — 



154 LALLA ROOKH. 

When, as she saw him rashly spring, 

And midway up in danger cling, 

She flung him down her long black hair. 

Exclaiming, breathless, "There, love, there!' 

And scarce did manlier nerve uphold 

The hero Zal in that fond hour. 
That wings the youth who, fleet and bold. 

Now climbs the rocks to Hinda's bower. 
See, light as up their granite steeps 

The rock-goats of Arabia clamber, 230 
Fearless from crag to crag he leaps, 

And now is in the maiden's chamber. 

She loves — but knows not whom she loves, 

Nor what his race, nor whence he came ; — 
Like one who meets, in Indian groves. 

Some beauteous bird without a name, 
Brought by the last ambrosial breeze. 
From isles in theundiscover'd seas, 
To show his plumage for a day 
To wondering eyes, and wing away ! 
Will he thus fly — her nameless lover? 

Alia forbid! 'twas by a moon 
As fair as this, while singing over 

Some ditty to her soft Kanoon,23i 
Alone, at this same witching hour. 

She first beheld his radiant eyes 
Gleam through the lattice of the bower, 

Where nightly now they mix their sighs 
And thought some spirit of the air 
(For what could waft a mortal there?) 
Was pausing on his moonlit way 
To listen to their lonely lay! 
This fancy ne'er hath left her mind: 



LALLA ROOKH. 155 

And though, when terror's swoon had past, 
She saw a youth, of mortal kind, 

Before her in obeisance cast, 
Yet often since, when he hath spoken 
Strange, awful words, — and gleams have 

broken 
From his dark eyes, too bright to bear, — 

Oh! she hath fear'd her soul was given 
To some unhallow'd child of air, 

Some erring Spirit cast from heaven, 
Like those angelic youths of old, 
Who burn'd for maids of mortal mould, 
Bewilder'd left the glorious skies. 
And lost their heaven for woman's eyes. 
Fond girl! nor fiend nor angel he 
Who woos thy young simpUcity; 
But one of earth's impassion'd sons, 

As warm as love, as fierce in ire, 
As the best heart whose current runs 

Full of the Day-God's living fire. 
But quench 'd to-night that ardor seems, 

And pale his cheek, and sunk his brow ; — 
Never before, but in her dreams, 

Had she beheld him pale as now: 
And those were dreams of troubled sleep. 
From which 'twas joy to wake and weep; 
Visions, that will not be forgot, 

But sadden every waking scene. 
Like warning ghosts, that leave the spot 

All wither'd where they once have been. 

*'How sweetly," said the trembling maid, 
Of her own gentle voice afraid, 
So long had they in silence stood, 



156 LALLA ROOKH. 

Looking upon that tranquil flood — 

''How sweetly does the moonbeam smile 

To-night upon yon leafy isle ! 

Oft, in m fancy's wanderings, 

I've wish'd that little isle had wings. 

And we, within its fairy bowers, 

Were wafted off to seas unknown 
Where nor a pulse should beat but ours, 

And we might live, love, die alone! 
Far from the cruel and the cold, — 

Where the bright eyes of angels only 
Should come around us, to behold 

A paradise so pure and lonely. 
Would this be world enough for thee?" — 
Playful she turn'd, that he might see 

The passing smile her cheek put on ; 
But when she mark'd how mournfully 

His eyes met hers, that smile was gone; 
And bursting into heartfelt tears, 
"Yes, yes," she cried, "my hourly fears, 
My dreams have boded all too right — 
We part — forever part — to-night ! 
I knew, I knew it could not last — 
'Twas bright, 'twas heavenly, but 'tis past! 
Oh! ever thus, from childhood's hour, 

I've seen my fondest hopes decay; 
I never lov'd a tree or flower, 

But 'twas the first to fade away. 
I never nurs'd a dear gazelle, 

To glad me with its soft black eye, 
But when it came to know me well, 

And love me, it was sure to die! 
Now too — the joy most like divine 

Of all I ever dreamt or knew. 



LALLA ROOKH. 157 

To see thee, hear thee, call thee mine, — 

Oh misery! must I lose that too? 
Yet go — on peril's brink we meet; — 

Those frightful rocks — that treacherous sea — 
No, never come again — though sweet, 

Though heaven, it may be death to thee. 
Farewell — and blessings on thy way. 

Where'er thou goest, beloved stranger! 
Better to sit and watch that ray, 
And think thee safe, though far away, 

Than have thee near me, and in danger!" 

*' Danger! — oh, tempt me not to boast — " 
The youth exclaim'd — "thou little know'st 
What he can brave, who, born and nurst 
In Danger's paths, has dar'd her worst; 
Upon whose ear the signal word 

Of strife and death is hourly breaking; 
Who sleeps with head upon the sword 

His fever'd hand must grasp in waking. 
Danger! — " 

"Say on — thou fear'st not then, 
And we may meet — oft meet again?" 

"Oh! look not so — beneath the skies 
I now fear nothing but those eyes. 
If aught on earth could charm or force 
My spirit from its destin'd course, — 
If aught could make this soul forget 
The bond to which its seal is set, 
'Twould be those eyes; — they, only they, 
Could melt that sacred seal away! 
But no — 'tis fix'd — my awful doom 
Is fix'd — on this side of the tomb 



15a LALLA ROOKH. 

We meet no more ; why, why did Heaven 
Mingle two souls that earth has riven, 
Has rent asunder wide as ours? 

Arab maid, as soon the Powers 

Of Light and Darkness may combine, 
As I be link'd with thee or thine! 

Thy Father " 

"Holy Alia save 

His gray head from that lightning glance! 
Thou know'st him not — he loves the brave ; 

Nor lives there under heaven's expanse 
One who would prize, would worship thee 
And thy bold spirit, more than he. 
Oft when, in childhood, I have play'd 

With the bright falchion by his side, 
I've heard him swear his lisping maid 

In time should be a warrior's bride. 
And still, whene'er at Haram hours 

1 take him cool sherbets and flowers. 
He tells me, when in playful mood, 

A hero shall my bridegroom be, 
Since maids are best in battle woo'd, 

And won with shouts of victory ! 
Nay, turn not from me — thou alone 
Art form'd to make both hearts thy own. 
Go — join his sacred ranks — thou know'st 

The unholy strife these Persians wage: 
Good Heaven, that frown! — even now thou 
glov/'st 

With more than mortal warrior's rage, 
Haste to the camp by morning's light, 
And when that sword is rais'd in fight„ 
Oh still remember. Love and I 
Beneath its shadow trembling lie [ 



LALLA ROOKH. 159 

One victory o'er those Slaves of Fire, 
Those impious Ghebers, whom my sire 
Abhors ' ' 

*'Hold, hold— thy words are death—'* 

The stranger cried, as wild he flung 
His mantle back, and show'd beneath 

The Gheber's belt that round him clung 232 — 
''Here, maiden, look — weep — blush to see 
All that thy sire abhors in me ! 
Yes — I am of that impious race. 

Those Slaves of Fire, who, morn and even, 
Hail their Creator's dwelling-place 

Among the living lights of heaven ; 233 
Yes, I am of that outcast few, 
To Iran and to vengeance true, 
Who curse the hour your Arabs came 
To desolate our shrines of flame. 
And swear, before God's burning eye, 
To break our country's chains, or die ! 
Thy bigot sire, — nay, tremble not, — 

He, who gave birth to those dear eyes, 
With me is sacred as the spot 

From which our fires of worship rise! 
But know — 'twas he I sought that night. 

When, from thy watch-boat on the sea, 
I caught this turret's glimmering light. 

And up the rude rocks desperately 
Rush'd to my prey — thou know'st the rest — 
I climb 'd the gory vulture's nest, 
And found a trembling dove within ; — 
Thine, thine the victory — thine the sin — 
If Love hath made one thought his own, 
That Vengeance claims first — last — alone ! 



160 LALLA ROOKH. 

Oh ! had we never, never met, 

Or could this heart e'en now forget 

How link'd, how bless'd we might have been, 

Had fate not frown'd so dark between! 

Hadst thou been born a Persian maid. 

In neighboring valleys had we dwelt, 

Through the same fields in childhood play'd, 

At the same kindling altar knelt, — 
Then, then, while all those nameless ties, 
In which the charm of Country lies. 
Had round our hearts been hourly spun. 
Till Iran's cause and thine were one; 
While in thy lute's awakening sigh 
I heard the voice of days gone by, 
And saw, in every smile of thine, 
Returning hours of glory shine ; — 
While the wrong'd Spirit of our Land 

Liv'd, look'd, and spoke her wrongs through 
thee, — 
God! who could then this sword withstand? 

Its very flash were victory ! 
But now — estrang'd, divorc'd forever, 
Far as the grasp of Fate can sever ; 
Our only ties what love has wove, — 

In faith, friends, country, sunder'd wide: 
And then, then only, true to love. 

When false to all that's dear beside! 
Thy father, Iran's deadliest foe — 
Thyself perhaps, even now — but no — 
Hate never look'd so lovely yet! 

No — sacred to thy soul will be 
The land of him who could forget 

All but that bleeding land for thee. 
When other eyes shall see, unmov'd, 




A child at play among the wild flowers."— Page 135. 

Lalla Kookli. 



LALLA ROOKH. 161 

Her widows mourn, her warriors fall, 
Thou'lt think how well one Gheber lov'd. 

And for his sake thou'lt weep for all! 
But look " 

With sudden start he turn'd 

And pointed to the distant wave, 
Where lights, like charnel meteors, burn'd 

Bluely, as o'er some seaman's grave; 
And fiery darts, at intervals, 234 

Flew up all sparkling from the main, 
As if each star that nightly falls 

Were shooting back to heaven again. 
'*My signal lights! — I must away — 
Both, both are ruin'd, if I stay. 
Farewell, sweet life! thou cling'st in vain — 
Now, Vengeance, I am thine again!" 
Fiercely he broke away, nor stopp'd 
Nor look'd — but from the lattice dropp'd 
Down 'mid the pointed crags beneath, 
As if he fled from love to death. 
While pale and mute young Hinda stood ; 
Nor mov'd, till in the silent flood 
A momentary plunge below 
Startled her from her trance of woe; — 
Shrieking she to the lattice fiew, 

"I come — I come — if in that tide 
Thou sleep'st to-night, I'll sleep there too, 

In death's cold wedlock, by thy side. 
Oh! I would ask no happier bed 

Than the chill wave my love lies under: — 
Sweeter to rest together dead, 

Far sweeter, than to live asunder!" 
But no — their hour is not yet come — 
11 



162 LALLA ROOKH. 

Again she sees his pinnace fly, 
Wafting him fleetly to his home, 

Where'er that ill-starr'd home may lie 
And calm and smooth it seem'd to win 

Its moonlit way before the wind, 
As if it bore all peace within, 

Nor left one breaking heart behind ! 

The Princess, whose heart was sad enough 
already, could have wished that Feramorz had 
chosen a less melancholy story; as it is only 
to the happy that tears are a luxury. Her 
ladies, however, were by no means sorry that 
love was once more the Poet's theme; for, 
whenever he spoke of love, they said, his voice 
was as sweet as if he had chewed the leaves of 
that enchanted tree which grows over the tomb 
of the musician, Tan-Sein.235 

Their road all the morning had lain through 
a very dreary country ; — through valleys, cov- 
ered with a low bushy jungle, where, in more 
than one place, the awful signal of the bamboo 
staff, 236 with the white flag at its top, re- 
minded the traveler that, in that very spot, the 
tiger had made some human creature his 
victim. It was, therefore, with much pleasure 
that they arrived at sunset in a safe and lovely 
glen, and encamped under one of those holy 
trees whose smooth columns and spreading 
roofs seem to destine them for natural tembles 
of religion. Beneath this spacious shade, some 
pious hands had erected a row of pillars orna- 
mented with the most beautiful porcelain, 237 
which now supplied the use of mirrors to the 



LALLA ROOKH. 163 

young maidens, as they adjusted their hair in 
descending from the palankeens. Here, while, 
as usual, the Princess sat listening anxiously, 
with Fadladeen in one of his loftiest moods of 
criticism by her side, the young Poet, leaning 
against a branch of the tree, thus continued 
his story: — 

The morn hath risen clear and calm. 

And o'er the Green Sea^ss palely shines, 
Revealing Bahrein's^SQ groves of palm. 

And lighting Kishma's239 amber vines. 
Fresh smell the shores of Araby, 
While breezes from the Indian sea 
Blow round Selama's24o sainted cape. 

And curl the shining flood beneath, — 
Whose waves are rich with many a grape 

And cocoa-nut and flowery wreath, 
Which pious seamen, as they pass'd. 
Had tow'rd that holy headland cast — 
Oblations to the Genii there 
For gentle skies and breezes fair! 
The nightingale now bends her flight24i 
From the high trees, where, all the night 

She sung so sweet, with none to listen; 
And hides her from the morning star 

Where thickets of pomegranate glisten 
In the clear dawn, — bespangled o'er. 

With dew, whose night drops would not stain 
The best and brightest scimitar242 
That ever youthful Sultan wore 

On the first morning of his reign. 
And see — the Sun himself! — on wings 
Of glory up the East he springs. 



164 LALLA ROOKH. 

Anj^el of Light ! who from the time 
Those heavens began their march sublime, 
Hath first of all the starry choir 
Trod in his Maker's steps of fire! 

Where are the days, thou wondrous sphere. 
When Iran, like a sun-flower, turn'd 
To meet that eye where'er it burn'd? — 

When, from the banks of Bendemeer 
To the nut-groves of Samarcand, 
Thy temples flam'd o'er all the land? 
Where are they? ask the shades of them 

Who, on Cadessia's243 bloody plains, 
Saw fierce invaders pluck the gem 
From Iran's broken diadem, 

And bind her ancient faith in chains: — 
Ask the poor exile, cast alone 
On foreign shores, unlov'd, unknown, 
Beyond the Caspian's Iron Gates, 244 

Or on the snowy Mossian mountains. 
Far from his beauteous land of dates. 

Her jasmine bowers and sunny fountains: 
Yet happier so than if he trod 
His own belov'd, but blighted, sod. 
Beneath a despot stranger's nod! — 
Oh, he would rather houseless roam 

Where Freedom and his God may lead. 
Than be the sleekest slave at home 

That crouches to the conqueror's creed! 
Is Iran's pride then gone forever. 

Quench 'd with the flame in Mithra's caves? — 
No — she has sons, that never — never — 

Will stoop to be the Moslem's slaves. 

While heaven has light or earth has graves ; — 



LALLA ROOKH. 165 

Spirits of fire, that brood not long, 
But flash resentment back for wrong; 
And hearts where, slow but deep, the seeds 
Of vengeance ripen into deeds, 
Till, in some treacherous hour of calm, 
They burst, like Zeilan's giant palm, 245 
Whose buds fly open with a sound 
That shakes the pigmy forests round ! 
Yes, Emir! he, who scal'd that tower, 

And, had he reach'd thy slumbering breast. 
Had taught thee, in a Gheber's power 

How safe e'en tyrant heads may rest — 
Is one of many, brave as he. 
Who loathe thy haughty race and thee; 
Who, though they know the strife is vain, 
Who, though they know the riven chain 
Snaps but to enter in the heart 
Of him who rends its links apart. 
Yet dare the issue, — blest to be 
E'en for one bleeding moment free, 
And die in pangs of liberty! 
Thou know'st them well — 'tis some moons 
since 

Thy turban 'd troops and blood-red flags 
Thou satrap of a bigot Prince, 

Have swarm'd among these Green Sea crags; 
Yet here, e'en here a sacred band — 
Ay, in the portal of that land 
Thou, Arab, dar'st to call thy own — 
Their spears across thy path have thrown; 
Here — ere the winds half wing'd thee o'er — 
Rebellion brav'd thee from the shore. 



166 LALLA ROOKH. 



Rebellion! foul, dishonoring word, 

Whose wrongful blight so oft has stain'd 
The holiest cause that tongue or sword 

Of mortal ever lost or gain'd. 
How many a spirit, born to bless, 

Hath sunk beneath that withering name, 
Whom but a day's, an hour's success 

Had wafted to eternal fame! 
As exhalations, when they burst 
From the warm earth, if chill'd at first, 
If check'd in soaring from the plain, 
Darken to fogs and sink again ; — 
But if they once triumphant spread 
Their w4ngs above the mountain-head, 
Become enthroned in upper air, 
And turn to sun-bright glories there ! 

And who is he, that wields the might 

Of Freedom on the Green Sea brink, 
Before whose sabre's dazzling light 246 

The eyes of Yemen's warriors wink? 
Who comes, embower'd in the spears 
Of Kerman's hardy mountaineers? — 
Those mountaineers that truest, last, 

Cling to their country's ancient rites, 
As if that God, whose e3^elids cast 

Their closing gleam on Iran's heights, 
Among her snowy mountains threw 
The last light of his worship too! 

'Tis Hafed — name of fear, whose sound 
Chills like the muttering of a charm ! — 

Shout but that awful name around. 
And palsy shakes the manliest arm. 



LALLA ROOKH. 167 

'Tis Hafed, most accurs'd and dire 

(So rank'd by Moslem hate and ire) 

Of all the rebel Sons of Fire ; 

Of whose malign, tremendous power 

The Arabs, at their mid-watch hour, 

Such tales of fearful wonder tell, 

That each affrighted sentinel 

Pulls down his cowl upon his eyes. 

Lest Hafed in the midst should rise! 

A man, they say, of monstrous birth, 

A mingled race of flame and earth. 

Sprung from those old, enchanted kings, ^47 

Who in their fairy helms, of yore, 
A feather from the mystic wings 

Of the Simoorgh resistless wore ; 
And gifted by the Fiends of Fire, 
Who groan'd to see their shrines expire. 
With charms that, all in vain withstood, 
Would drown the Koran's light in blood! 

Such were the tales, that won belief. 

And such the coloring Fancy gave 
To a young, warm, and dauntless Chief, — 

One who, no more than mortal brave, 
Fought for the hand his soul ador'd, 

For happy homes and altars free, — 
His only talisman, the sword, 

His only spell-word. Liberty ! 
One of that ancient hero line, 
Along whose glorious current shine 
Names, that have sanctified their blood ; 
As Lebanon's small mountain-flood 
Is render'd holy by the ranks 
Of sainted cedars on its banks. 248 



168 LALLA ROOKH. 

'Twas not for him to crouch that knee 
Tamely to Moslem tyranny; 
'Twas not for him, whose soul was cast 
In the bright mould of ages past, 
Whose melancholy spirit, fed 
With all the glories of the dead, 
Though framed for Iran's happiest years, 
Was born among her chains and tears! — 
'Twas not for him to swell the crowd 
Of slavish heads, that shrinking bow'd 
Before the Moslem, as he pass'd, 
Like shrubs beneath the poison-blast — 
No, — far he fled — indignant fled 

The pageant of his country's shame; 
While every tear her children shed 

Fell on his soul like drops of flame; 
And, as a lover hails the dawn 

Of a first smile, so welcom'd he 
The sparkle of the first sword drawn 

For vengeance and for liberty ! 

But vain was valor — vain the flower 
Of Kerman, in that deathful hour, 
Against Al Hassan's whelming power. — 
In vain they met him, helm to helm, 
Upon the threshold of that realm 
He came in bigot pomp to sway. 
And with their corpses block'd his way — 
In vain — for every lance they rais'd. 
Thousands around the conqueror blaz*d ; 
For every arm that lin'd their shore. 
Myriads of slaves were wafted o'er, — 
A bloody, bold, and countless crowd, 
Before whose swarm as fast they bow'd 



LALLA ROOKH. 169 

As dates beneath the locust-cloud. 
There stood — but one short league away 
From old Harmozia's sultry bay — 
A rocky mountain, o'er the Sea 
Of Oman beetling awfully : 249 
A last and solitary link 

Of those stupendous chains that reach 
From the broad Caspian's reedy brink 

Down winding to the Green Sea beach. 
Around its base the bare rocks stood, 
Like naked giants in the flood, 

As if to guard the Gulf across; 
While, on its peak, that brav'd the sky, 
A ruin'd Temple tower'd, so high 

That oft the sleeping albatross 250 
Struck the wild ruins with her wing, 
And oft from her cloud-rock'd slumbering' 
Started — to find man's dwelling there 
In her own silent fields of air! 
Beneath, terrific caverns gave 
Dark welcome to each stormy wave 
That dash'd, like midnight revellers, in; — 
And such the strange, mysterious din 
At times throughout those caverns roU'd, 
And such the fearful wonders told 
Of restless spirits imprison'd there. 
That bold were Moslem, who would dare, 
At twilight hour, to steer his skiff 
Beneath the Gheber's lonely cliff. 251 

On the land side, those towers sublime. 
That seem'd above the grasp of Time, 
Were sever'd from the haunts of men 
By a wide, deep, and wizard glen. 



170 LALLA ROOKH. 

So fathomless, so full of gloom, 

No eye could pierce the void between : 
It seem'd a place where Gholes might come 
With their foul banquets from the tomb, 

And in its caverns feed unseen. 
Like distant thunder, from below. 

The sound of many torrents came, 
Too deep for eye or ear to know 
If 'twere the sea's imprison'd flow, 

Or floods of ever-restless flame. 
For, each ravine, each rocky spire 
Of that vast mountain stood on fire ; 252 
And, though forever past the days 
When God was worshipp'd in the blaze 
That from its lofty altar shone, — 
Though fled the priests, the votaries gone, 
Still did the mighty flame burn on, 253 
Through chance and change, through good 

and ill. 
Like its own God's eternal will. 
Deep, constant, bright, unquenchable! 

Thither the vanquish'd Hafed led 

His little army's last remains; — 
"Welcome, terrific glen!" he said, 
"Thy gloom, that Eblis' self might dread, 

Is Heaven to him who flies from chains!" 
O'er a dark, narrow bridge- way, known 
To him and to his Chiefs alone, 
They cross'd the chasm and gain'd the towers — 
"This home," he cried, "at least is ours; 
Here we may bleed, unmock'd by hymns 

Of Moslem triumph o'er our head; 
Here we may fall, nor leave our limbs 



LALLA ROOKH. 171 

To quiver to the Moslem's tread. 
Stretch 'd on this rock while vultures' beaks 
Are whetted on our yet warm cheeks. 
Here — happy that no tyrant's eye 
Gloats on our torments — we may die!" — 

'Twas night when to those towers they came, 

And gloomily the fitful flame, 

That from the ruin'd altai broke, 

Glar'd on his features, as he spoke: — 

" 'Tis o'er — what men could do, we've done — • 

If Iran will look tamely on. 

And see her priests, her warriors driven 

Before a sensual bigot's nod, 
A wretch, who shrines his lusts in heaven, 

And makes a pander of his God ; 
If her proud sons, her high-born souls, 

Men, in whose veins — oh last disgrace ! 
The blood of Zal and Rustam ^54 rolls,— 

If they will court this upstart race, 
And turn from Mithra's ancient ray. 
To kneel at shrines of yesterday ; 
If they will crouch to Iran's foes. 

Why, let them — till the land's despair 
Cries out to Heaven, and bondage grows 

Too vile for e'en the vile to bear! 
Till shame at last, long hidden, burns 
Their inmost core, and conscience turns 
Each coward tear the slave lets fall 
Back on his heart in drops of gall. 
But here, at least, our arms unchain 'd, 
And souls that thraldom never stain 'd; — 

This spot, at least, no foot of slave 
Or satrap ever yet profan'd; 



172 LALLA ROOKH. 

And though but few — though fast the wave 
Of life is ebbing from our veins, 
Enough for vengeance still remains. 
As panthers, after set of sun. 
Rush from the roots of Lebanon 
Across the dark sea robber's way,255 
We'll bound upon our startled prey; 
And when some hearts that proudest swell 
Have felt our falchion's last farewell; 
When Hope's expiring throb is o'er, 
And e'en despair can prompt no more, 
This spot shall be the sacred grave 
Of the last few who, vainly brave. 
Die for the land they cannot save!" 

His Chiefs stood round — each shining blade 

Upon the broken altar laid — 

And though so wild and desolate 

Those courts, where once the Mighty sate ; 

No longer on those mouldering towers 

Was seen the feast of fruits and flowers. 

With which of old the Magi fed 

The wandering Spirits of their Dead ; 256 

Though neither priest nor rites were there, 

Nor charmed leaf of pure pomegranate : ^57 
Nor hymn, nor censer's fragrant air. 

Nor symbol of their worshipp'd planet; ^53 
Yet the same God that heard their sires 
Heard them, while on that altar's fires 
They swore ^59 the latest, holiest deed 
Of the few hearts, still left to bleed, 
Should be, in Iran's injur'd name, 
To die upon that Mount of Flame — 



LALLA ROOKH. 173 

The last of all her patriot line, 
Before her last untrampled Shrine ! 

Brave, suffering souls! they little knew 
How many a tear their injuries drew 
From one weak maid, one gentle foe, 
Whom love first touch 'd with others' woe — 
Whose life, as free from thought as sin, 
Slept like a lake, till Love threw in 
His talisman, and woke the tide. 
And spread its trembling circles wide. 
Once, Emir! thy unheeding child, 
'Mid all this havoc, blcom'd and smil'd — 
Tranquil as on some battle plain 

The Persian lily shines and towers, 260 
Before the combat's reddening stain 

Hath fall'n upon her golden flowers. 
Light-hearted maid, unaw'd, unmov'd, 
While Heaven but spar'd the sire she lov'd, 
Once at thy evening tales of blood 
Unlistening and aloof she stood — 
And oft, when thou hast pac'd along 

Thy Haram halls with furious heat. 
Hast thou not curs'd her cheerful song, 

That came across thee, calm and sweet. 
Like lutes of angels, touch 'd so near 
Hell's confines, that the damn'd can hear! 

Far other feelings Love hath brought — 
Her soul all flame, her brow all sadness. 

She now has but the one dear thought, 
And thinks that o'er, almost to madness! 

Oft does her sinking heart recall 

His words — "For my sake weep for all;" 



174 LALLA ROOKH. 

And bitterly, as day on day 

Of rebel carnage fast succeeds. 
She weeps a lover snatch'd away 

In every Gheber wretch that bleeds. 
There's not a sabre meets her eye, 

But with his life-blood seems to swim; 
There's not an arrow wings the sky, 

But fancy turns its point to him. 
No more she brings with footstep light 
Al Hassan's falchion for the fight; 
And — had he look'd with clearer sight, 
Had not the mists, that ever rise 
From a foul spirit, dimm'd his eyes — 
He would have mark'd her shuddering frame. 
When from the field of blood he came. 
The faltering speech — the look estrang'd — 
Voice, step, and life, and beauty chang'd — 
He would have mark'd all this, and known 
Such change is wrought by Love alone! 

Ah! not the Love that should have bless'd 
So young, so innocent a breast; 
Not the pure, open, prosperous Love, 
That pledg'd on earth and seal'd above. 
Grows in the world's approving eyes. 

In friendship's smile and home's caress, 
Collecting all the heart's sweet ties 

Into one knot of happiness! 
No, Hinda, no, — thy fatal fiame 
Is nurs'd in silence, sorrow, shame; — 

A passion without hope or pleasure. 
In thy soul's darkness buried deep. 

It lies, like some ill-gotten treasure, — 
Some idol, without shrine or name, 



LALLA ROOKH. 175 

O'er which its pale-eyed votaries keep 
Unholy watch, while others sleep. 

Seven nights have darken'd Oman's sea, 

Since last, beneath the moonlight ray, 
She saw his light oar rapidly 

Hurry her Gheber's bark away, — 
And still she goes, at midnight hour, 
To weep alone, in that high bower, 
And watch, and look along the deep 
For him whose smiles first made her weep ; — 
But watching, weeping, all was vain, 
She never saw his bark again. 
The owlet's solitary cry, 
The night-hawk flitting darkly by, 

And oft the hateful carrion bird, 
Heavily flapping his clogg'd wing. 
Which reek'd with that day's banqueting— 

Was all she saw, was all she heard. 

'Tis the eighth morn — Al Hassan's brow 

Is brighten 'd with unusual joy — 
What mighty mischief glads him now. 

Who never smiles but to destroy? 
The sparkle upon Herkend's Sea, 
When toss'd at midnight furiously,^^! 
Tells not of wreck and ruin nigh. 
More surely than that smiling eye ! 
"Up, daughter, up — the Kerna's 262 breath 
Has blown a blast would waken death, 
And yet thou sleep'st — up, child, and see 
This blessed day for Heaven and me, 
A day more rich in Pagan blood 
Than ever flashed o'er Oman's flood. 



176 LALLA ROOKH. 

Before another dawn shall shine, 

His head — heart — limbs — will all be mine; 

This very night his blood shall steep 

These hands all over ere I sleep!" — 

"His blood!" she faintly scream'd — her mind 

Still singling one from all mankind — 

"Yes — spite of his ravines and towers, 

Hafed, my child, this night is ours. 

Thanks to all -conquering treachery. 

Without whose aid the links accurst. 
That bind these impious slaves, would be 

Too strong for Alla's self to burst! 
That rebel fiend, whose blade has spread 
My path with piles of Moslem dead, 
Whose baffling spells had almost driven 
Back from their course the Swords of Heaven, 
This night, with all his band, shall know 
How deep an Arab's steel can go, 
When God and Vengeance speed the blow 
And — Prophet ! by that holy wreath 
Thou wor'st on Ohod's field of death, 263 
I swear, for every sob that parts 
In anguish from these heathen hearts, 
A gem from Persia's plunder'd mines 
Shall glitter on thy Shrine of Shrines. 
But, ha! — she sinks — that look so wild — 
Those livid lips — my child, my child, 
This life of blood befits not thee, 
And thou must back to Araby. 

Ne'er had I risk'd thy timid sex 
In scenes that man himself might dread, 
Had I not hop'd that every tread 

Would be on prostrate Persian necks — 



LALLA ROOKH. 177 

Curst race, they offer swords instead! 
But cheer thee, maid, — the wind that now 
Is blowing o'er thy feverish brow, 
To-day shall waft thee from the shore ; 
And, ere a drop of this night's gore 
Have time to chill in yonder towers, 
Thou'lt see thy own sweet Arab bowers!" 

His bloody boast was all too true ; 

There lurk'd one wretch among the few 

Whom Hafed's eagle eye could count 

Around him on that fiery mount, — 

One miscreant who for gold betray'd 

The pathway through the valley's shade 

To those high towers where Freedom stood 

In her last hold of flame and blood 

Left on the field last dreadful night, 

When, sallying from their Sacred height, 

The Ghebers fought hope's farewell fight. 

He lay — but died not with the brave; 

That sun, which should have gilt his grave. 

Saw him a traitor and a slave; — 

And, w^hile the fev/, who thence retum'd 

To their high rocky fortress, mourn'd 

For him among the matchless dead 

They left behind on glory's bed. 

He liv'd, and in the face of morn, 

Laugh'd them and Faith and Heaven to scorn. 

Oh, for a tongue to curse the slave, 

Whose treason, like a deadly blight. 
Comes o'er the councils of the brave. 

And blasts them in their hour of might! 
May Life's unblessed cup for him 
Be drugg'd with treacheries to the brim, — 

12 



178 LALLA ROOKH. 

With hopes, that but allure to fly, 

With joys, that vanish while he sips, 
Like Dead Sea fruits, that tempt the eye, 

But turn to ashes on the lips! 264 
His country's curse, his children's shame. 
Outcast of virtue, peace, and fame, 
May he, at last, with lips of flame 
On the parch'd desert thirsting die, — 
While lakes that shone in mockery nigh, 265 
Are fading off, untouch'd, untasted. 
Like the once glorious hopes he blasted ! 
And, when from earth his spirit flies, 

Just Prophet, let the damn'd one dv/ell 
Full in the sight of Paradise, 

Beholding heaven, and feeling hell! 

Lalla Rookh had, the night before, been 
visited by a dream which, in spite of the 
impending fate of poor Hafed, made her 
heart more than usually cheerful during the 
morning, and gave her cheeks all the fresh- 
ened animation of a flower that the Bidmusk 
had just passed over. 266 She fancied that she 
was sailing on that Eastern Ocean, where the 
sea-gypsies, who live forever on the water, 267 
enjoy a perpetual summer in wandering from 
isle to isle, when she saw a small gilded bark 
approaching her. It w^as like one of those 
boats which the Maldivian islanders send adrift 
at the mercy of winds and waves, loaded with 
perfumes, flowers, and odoriferous wood, as 
an oft'ering to the Spirit whom they call King 
of the Sea. At first, this little bark appeared 
to be empty, but, on coming nearer — 



LALLA ROOKH. 179 

She had proceeded thus far in rciating the 
dream to her Ladies, when Feramorz appeared 
at the door of the pavilion. In his presence, 
of course, everything else was forgotten, and 
the continuance of the story was instantly re- 
quested by all. Fresh wood of aloes was set to 
burn in the cassolets: the violet sherbets ^68 
were hastily handed round, and after a short 
prelude on his lute, in the pathetic measure of 
Nava,269 which is always used to express the 
lamentations of absent lovers, the Poet thus 
continued: — 

The day is lowering — stilly black 
Sleeps the grim wave, while heaven's rack 
Dispers'd and wild, 'twixt earth and sky 
Hangs like a shatter'd canopy. 
There's not a cloud in that blue plain 

But tells of storm to come or past ; — 
Here, flying loosely as the mane 

Of a young war-horse in the blast ; — 
There roll'd in masses dark and swelling, 
As proud to be the thunder's dwelling! 
While some already burst and riven. 
Seem melting down the verge of heaven; 
As though the infant storm had rent 

The mighty womb that gave him birth, 
And, having swept the firmament, 

Was now in fierce career for earth. 
On earth 'twas yet all calm around, 
A pulseless silence, dread, profound. 
More awful than the tempest's sound. 
The diver steer'd for Ormus' bowers. 
And moor'd his skiff till calmer hours ; 



180 LALLA ROOKH. 

The sea-birds, with portentous screech, 
Flew fast to land ; — upon the beach 
The pilot oft had paus'd, with glance 
Turn'd upward to that wild expanse; — 
And all was boding drear, and dark 
As her own soul, when Hinda's bark 
Went slowly from the Persian shore. — 
No music tim'd her parting oar, 270 
Nor friends upon the lessening strand 
Linger'd, to wave the unseen hand, 
Or speak the farewell, heard no more ; — 
But lone, unheeded, from the bay 
The vessel takes its mournful way, 
Like some ill-destin'd bark that steers 
In silence through the Gate of Tears. 271 
And where was stern Al Hassan then? 
Could not that saintly scourge of men 
From bloodshed and devotion spare 
One minute for a farewell there? 
No — close within, in changeful fit«i 
Of cursing and of prayer, he sits 
In savage loneliness to brood 
Upon the coming night of blood, — 

With that keen second-scent of death, 
By which the vulture snuffs his food 

In the still warm and living breath ! 2-2 
While o'er the wave his weeping daughter 
Is wafted from these scenes of slaughter, — 
As a young bird of Babylon, ^73 
Let loose to tell of victory won, 
Flies home, with wing, ah! not unstain'd 
By the red hands that held her chain'd. 



LALLA ROOKH. 181 

And does the long-left home she seeks 

Light up no gladness on her cheeks? 

The flowers she nurs'd — the well-known 

groves, 
Where oft in dreams her spirit roves — 
Once more to see her dear gazelles 
Come bounding with their silver bells; 
Her birds' new plumage to behold, 

And the gay, gleaming fishes count. 
She left, all filleted with gold, 

Shooting around their jasper fount ;274 
Her little garden mosque to see, 

And once again, at evening hour. 
To tell her ruby rosary 275 

In her own sweet acacia bower. — 
Can these delights, that wait her now, 
Call up no sunshine on her brow? 
No, — silent, from her train apart, — 
As if e'en now she felt at heart 
The chill of her approaching doom, — 
She sits, all lovely in her gloom 
As a pale Angel of the Grave ; 
And o'er the wide, tempestuous wave, 
Looks, with a shudder, to those towers. 
Where, in a few short awful hours, 
Blood, blood, in streaming tides shall run, 
Foul incense for to-morrow's sun! 
"Where art thou, glorious stranger! thou. 
So loved, so lost, where art thou now? 
Foe — Gheber — infidel — whate'er 
The unhallow'd name thou'rt doom'd to bear, 
Still glorious — still to this fond heart 
Dear as its blood, whate'er thou art! 
Yes— Alia, dreadful Alia! yes— 



182 LALLA ROOKH. 

If there be wrong, be crime in this, 

Let the black waves that round us roll, 

Whelm me this instant, ere my soul, 

Forgettino^ faith — home — father — all — 

Before its earthly idol fall. 

Nor worship e'en Thyself above him — 

For, oh, so wildly do I love him, 

Thy Paradise itself were dim 

And joyless, if not shared with him!" 

Her hands were clasp'd — her eyes upturn'd, 

Dropping their tears like moonlight rain ; 
And, though her lip, fond raver! burn'd 

With words of passion, bold, profane, 
Yet was there light around her brow, 

A holiness in those dark eyes, 
Which show'd, though wandering earthward 
now, 

Her spirit's home was in the skies. 
Yes — for a spirit pure as hers 
Is always pure, e'en while it errs; 
As sunshine, broken in the rill, 
Though turn'd astray, is sunshine still! 

So wholly had her mind forgot 
All thoughts but one, she heeded not 
The rising storm — the wave that cast 
A moment's midnight, as it pass'd — 
Nor heard the frequent shout, the tread 
Of gathering tumult o'er her head — 
Clash'd swords, and tongues that seem'd to vie 
With the rude riot of the sky. — 
But, hark! — that war-whoop on the deck — - 
That crash, as if each engine there, 



LALLA ROOKH. 183 

Masts, sails, and all, were gone to wreck, 

'Mid yells and stampings of despair! 
Merciful Heaven! what can it be? 
'Tis not the storm, though fearfully 
The ship has shudder' d as she rode 
O'er mountain- waves — "Forgive me, God! 
Forgive me!" shrieked the maid, and knelt, 
Trembling all over — for she felt 
As if her judgment hour was near. 
While crouching round, half dead with fear, 
Her handmaids clung, nor breath'd,nor stirr'd — 
When, hark ! — a second crash — a third — 
And now, as if a bolt of thunder 
Had riv'n the laboring planks asunder, 
The deck falls in — what horrors then! 
Blood, waves, and tackle, swords and men 
Come mix'd together through the chasm, — 
Some wretches in their dying spasm 
Still fiorhtinof on — and some that call 
"For God and Iran!" as they fall! 

Whose was the hand that turn'd away 
The perils of the infuriate fray, 
And snatch'd her breathless from beneath 
This wilderment of wreck and death? 
She knew not — for a faintness came 
Chill o'er her, and her sinking frame 
Amid the ruins of that hour 
Lay, like a pale and scorched flower, 
Beneath the red volcano's shower. 
But, oh ! the sights and sounds of dread 
That shock'd her ere her senses fled! 
The yawning deck — the crowd that strove 
Upon the tottering planks above — 



184 LALLA ROOKH. 

The sail, whose fragments, shivering o'er 
The strugglers' heads all dash'd with gore, 
Flutter'd like bloody flags — the clash 
Of sabres, and the lightning's flash 
Upon their blades, high toss'd about 
Like meteor brands 276 — as if throughout 

The elements one fury ran. 
One general rage, that left a doubt 

Which was the fiercer, Heaven or Man! 

Once too — but no — it could not be — 

'Twas fancy all — yet once she thought 
While yet her fading eyes could see, 

High on the ruin'd deck she caught 
A glimpse of that unearthly form. 

That glory of her soul, — e'en then. 
Amid the whirl of wreck and storm. 

Shining above his fellow-men. 
As, on some black and troublous night, 
The Star of Egypt, =77 whose proud light 
Never hath beam'd on those who rest 
In the White Islands of the West,278 
Burns though the storm with looks of flame 
That put Heaven's cloudier eyes to shame. 
But no — 'twas but the minute's dream — 
A fantasy — and ere the scream 
Had half-way pass'd her pallid lips, 
A death-like swoon, a chill eclipse 
Of soul and sense its darkness spread 
Around her, and she sunk, as dead. 

How calm, how beautiful comes on 
The stilly hour, when storms are gone; 
When warring winds have died away, 



LALLA ROOKH. 185 

And clouds, beneath the glancing ray, 
Melt off, and leave the land and sea 
Sleeping in bright tranquillity, — 
Fresh as if Day again were born. 
Again upon the lap of Morn ! — 
When the light blossoms, rudely torn 
And scatter'd at the whirlwind's will, 
Hang floating in the pure air still, 
Filling it all with precious balm, 
In gratitude for this sweet calm ; — 
And every drop the thunder- showers 
Have left upon the grass and flowers 
Sparkles, as 'twere that lightning- gem 279 
Whose liquid flame is born of them ! 
When, 'stead of one unchanging breeze, 
There blow a thousand gentle airs, 
And each a different perfume bears, — 
As if the loveliest plants and trees 
Had vassal breezes of their own 
To watch and wait on them alone, 

And waft no other breath than theirs: 
When the blue waters rise and fall, 
In sleepy sunshine mantling all; 
And e'en that swell the tempest leaves 
Is like the full and silent heaves 
Of lovers' hearts, when newly blest, 
Too newly to be quite at rest. 

Such was the golden hour that broke 
Upon the world, when Hinda woke 
From her long trance, and heard around 
No motion but the water's sound 
Rippling against the vessel's side, 
As slow it mounted o'er the tide. — 



186 LALLA ROOKH. 

But where is she? — her eyes are dark, 
Are wilder'd still — is this the bark, 
The same, that from Harmozia's bay 
Bore her at morn — whose bloody way 
The sea-dog track'd? — no — strange and new 
Is all that meets her wondering view. 
Upon a galliot's deck she lies, 

Beneath no rich pavilion's shade, — 
No plumes to fan her sleeping eyes. 

Nor jasmine on her pillow laid. 
But the rude litter, roughly spread 
AVith war-cloaks, is her homely bed 
And shawl and sash, on javelins hung. 
For awning o'er her head are flung, 
Shuddering she look'd around — there lay 

A group of warriors in the sun, 
Resting their limbs, as for that day 

Their ministry of death were done. 
Some gazing on the drowsy sea, 
Lost in unconscious reverie; 
And some, who seem'd but ill to brook 
That sluggish calm, with many a look 
To the slack sail impatient cast, 
As loose it flagg'd around the mast. 

Blest Alia! who shall save her now? 

There's not in all that warrior band 
One Arab sword, one turban'd brow 

From her own Faithful Moslem land. 
Their garb — the leather belt 280 that wraps 

Each yellow vest ^S' — that rebel hue — 
The Tartar fleece upon their caps 282 

Yes — yes — her fears are all too true, 
And Heaven hath, in this dreadful hour, 



LALLA ROOKH. 187 

Abandon'd her to Hafed's power; — 
Hafed, the Gheber! — at the thought 

Her very heart's blood chills within; 
He, whom her soul was hourly taught 

To loathe, as some foul fiend of sin, 
Some minister, whom Hell had sent 
To spread its blast, where'er he went. 
And fling, as o'er our earth he trod, 
His shadow^ betwixt man and God! 
And she is now his captive, — thrown 
In his fierce hands, alive, alone; 
His the infuriate band she sees, 
All infidels — all enemies! 
What was the daring hope that then 
Cross'd her like lightning, as again. 
With boldness that despair had lent, 

She darted through that armed crowd 
A look so searching, so intent. 

That e'en the sternest warrior bow'd 
Abash'd, when he her glances caught, 
As if he guess'd whose form they sought? 
But no — she sees him not— 'tis gone, 
The vision that before her shone 
Through all the maze of blood and storm, 
Is fled — 'twas but a phantom form — 
One of those passing, rainbow dreams, 
Half light, half shade, which Fancy's beams 
Paint on the fleeting mists that roll 
In trance or slumber round the soul. 

But now the bark, with livelier bound, 

Scales the blue wave — the crew's in motion, 

The oars are out, and with light sound 
Break the bright mirror of the ocean. 



188 LALLA ROOKH. 

Scattering its brilliant fragments round. 

And now she sees — with horror sees, 

Their course is tow'rd that mountain-hold, — 

Those towers, that make her life-blood freeze, 

Where Mecca's godless enemies 

Lie, like beleaguer'd scorpions, roU'd 
In their last deadly, venomous fold! 

Amid the illumin'd land and flood 

Sunless that mighty mountain stood; 

Save where, above its awful head. 

There shone a flaming cloud, blood-red 

As 'twere the flag of destiny 

Hung out to mark where death would be ! 

Had her bewilder' d mind the power 
Of thought, in this terrific hour. 
She wefl might marvel where or how 
Man's foot could scale that mountain's brow, 
Since ne'er had Arab heard or known 
Of path but through the glen alone. — 
But every thought was lost in fear, 
When, as their bounding bark drew near 
The craggy base, she felt the waves 
Hurry them tow'rd those dismal caves 
That from the Deep in windings pass 
Beneath that Mount's volcanic mass; — 
And loud a voice on deck commands 
To lower the mast and light the brands! — 
Instantly o'er the dashing tide 
Within a cavern's mouth they glide, 
Gloomy as that eternal Porch 

Through which departed spirits go: — 
Not e'en the flare of brand and torch 

Its flickering light could further throw 



LALLA ROOKH. 189 

Than the thick flood that boil'd below. 
Silent they floated — as if each 
Sat breathless, and too aw'd for speech 
In that dark chasm, where even sound 
Seem'd dark, — so sullenly around 
The goblin echoes of the cave 
M utter 'd it o'er the long black wave, 
As 'twere some secret of the grave! 
But soft — they pause — the current turns 

Beneath them from its onward track : — 
Some mighty, unseen barrier spurns 

The vexed tide, all foaming, back. 
And scarce the oars' redoubled force 
Can stem the eddy's whirling force ; 
When, hark ! — some desperate foot has sprung 
Among the rocks — the chain is flung — 
The oars are up — the grapple clings, 
And the toss'd bark in moorings swings. 
Just then, a day-beam through the shade 
Broke tremulous — but, ere the maid 
Can see from whence the brightness steals, 
Upon her brow she shuddering feels 
A viewless hand, that promptly ties 
A bandage round her burning eyes; 
While the rude litter where she lies, 
Uplifted by the warrior throng, 
O'er the steep rocks is borne along. 

Blest power of sunshine! — genial Day, 
What balm, what life, is in thy ray! 
To feel thee is such real bliss. 
That had the world no joy but this, 
To sit in sunshine calm and sweet, — 
It were a world too exquisite 



190 LALLA ROOKH. 

For man to leave it for the gloom, 
The deep, cold shadow of the tomb. 
E'en Hinda, though she saw not where 

Or whither wound the perilous road, 
Yet knew by that awakening air. 

Which suddenly around her glow'd, 
That they had risen from darkness then, 
And breath'd the sunny world again! 
But soon this balmy freshness fled — 
For now the steepy labyrinth led 
Through damp and gloom — 'mid crash of 

boughs, 
And fall of loosen 'd crags that rouse 
The leopard from his hungry sleep. 

Who, starting, thinks each crag a prey, 
And long is heard, from steep to steep, 

Chasing them down their thundering way ! 
The jackal's cry — the distant moan 
Of the hy^na, fierce and lone — 
And that eternal saddening sound 

Of torrents in the glen beneath, 
As 'twere the ever-dark Profound 

That rolls beneath the Bridge of Death ! 
All, all is fearful — e'en to see. 

To gaze on those terrific things 
She now but blindly hears, would be 

Relief to her imaginings; 
Since never yet was shape so dread. 

But Fancy, thus in darkness thrown 
And by such sounds of horror fed. 

Could frame more dreadful of her own. 

But does she dream? has Fear again 
Perplex'd the workings of her brain, 



LALLA ROOKH. 191 

Or did a voice, all music, then 

Come from the gloom, low whispering near — 

"Tremble not, love, thy Gheber's here!" 

She does not dream — all sense, all ear, 

She drinks the words, "Thy Gheber's here." 

'Twas his own voice — she could not err — 

Throughout the breathing world's extent 
There was but one such voice for her, 

So kind, so soft, so eloquent ! 
Oh, sooner shall the rose of May 

Mistake her own sweet nightingale, 
And to some meaner minstrel's lay 

Open her bosom's glowing veil, 283 
Than Love shall ever doubt a tone, 
A breath of the beloved one ! 

Though blest, 'mid all her ills, to think 

She has that one beloved near. 
Whose smile, though met on ruin's brink, 

Hath power to make e'en ruin dear, — 
Yet soon this gleam of rapture, crost 
By fears for him, is chill'd and lost. 
How shall the ruthless Hafed brook 
That one of Gheber's blood should look, 
With aught but curses in his eye, 
On her — a maid of Araby — 
A Moslem maid — the child of him. 

Whose bloody banner's dire success 
Hath left their altars cold and dim, 

And their fair land a wilderness! 
And worse than all, that night of blood 

Which comes so fast — oh ! who shall stay 
The sword, that once hath tasted food 

Of Persian hearts, or turn its way? 



192 LALLA ROOKH. 

What arm shall then the victim cover, 
Or from her father shield her lover? 
"Save him, my God!" she inly cries — 
**Save him this night — and if thine eyes 

Have ever welcom'd with delight 
The sinner's tears, the sacrifice 
Of sinner's hearts — guard him this night, 
And here, before Thy throne, I swear 
From my heart's inmost core to tear 

Love, hope, remembrance, though they be 
Linked with each quivering life-string there, 

And give it bleeding all to Thee ! 
Let him but live, — the burning tear. 
The sighs, so sinful, yet so dear. 
Which have been all too much his own. 
Shall from this hour be Heaven's alone. 
Youth pass'd in penitence, and age 
In long and painful pilgrimage. 
Shall leave no traces of the flame 
That wastes me now — nor shall his name 
E'er bless my lips, but when I pray 
For his dear spirit, that away 
Casting from its angelic ray 
The eclipse of earth, he, too, may shine 
Redeem'd all glorious and all Thine! 
Think — think what victory to win 
One radiant soul like his from sin, — 
One wandering star of virtue back 
To its own native, heavenward track! 
Let him but live, and both are Thine, 

Together Thine — for, blest or croet, 
Living or dead, his doom is mine, 

And, if he perish, both are lost!" 



LALLA ROOKH. 193 

The next evening, Lalla Rookh was en- 
treated by her Ladies to continue the relation 
of her wonderful dream ; but the fearful in- 
terest that hung round the fate of Hinda and 
her lover had completely removed every trace 
of it from her mind ; — much to the disappoint- 
ment of a fair seer or two in her train, who 
prided themselves on their skill in interpreting 
visions, and who had already remarked, as an 
unlucky omen, that the Princess, on the very 
morning after the dream, had worn a silk 
dyed with the blossoms of the sorrowful tree, 
Nilica.284 

Fadladeen, whose indignation had more than 
once broken out during the recital of some 
parts of this heterodox poem, seemed at length 
to have made up his mind to the infliction ; 
and took his seat this evening with all the 
patience of a martyr, while the Poet resumed 
his profane and seditious story as follows: — 

To tearless eyes and hearts at ease 
The leafy shores and sun-bright seas. 
That lay beneath that mountain's height, 
Had been a fair enchanting sight. 
'Twas one of those am.brosial eves 
A day of storm so often leaves 
At its calm setting — when the West 
Opens her golden bowers of rest, 
And a moist radiance from the skies 
Shoots trembling down, as from the eyes 
Of some meek penitent, whose last 
Bright hours atone for dark ones past, 

13 



194 LALLA ROOKH. 

And whose sweet tears, o'er wrong forgiven, 
Shine, as they fall, with light from heaven! 

'Twas stillness all — the winds that late 

Had rush'd through Kerman's almond 
groves, 
And shaken from her bowers of date 

That cooling feast the traveler loves, ^85 
Now, luU'd to languor, scarcely curl 

The Green Sea wave, whose waters gleam 
Limpid, as if her mines of pearl 

Were melted all to form the stream : 
And her fair islets, small and bright, 

With their green shores reflected there, 
Look like those Peri isles of light. 

That hang by spell- work in the air. 

But vainly did those glories burst 
On Hinda's dazzled eyes, when first 
The bandage from her brow was taken, 
And, pale and awed as those who waken 
In their dark tombs — when, scowling near, 
The Searchers of the Grave ^86 appear, — 
She shuddering turn'd to read her fate 

In the fierce eyes that flash'd around; 
And saw those towers all desolate, 

That o'er her head terrific frown'd. 
As if denying e'en the smile 
Of that soft heaven to gild their pile. 
In vain, with mingled hope and fear, 
She looks for him, whose voice so dear 
Had come, like music, to her ear — 
Strange, mocking dream! again 'tis fled. 
And oh, the shoots, the pangs of dread 



LALLA ROOKH. 195 

That through her inmost bosom run, 

When voices from without proclaim 
'*Hafed, the Chief" — and, one by one, 

The warriors shout that fearful name! 
He comes — the rock resounds his tread — 
How shall she dare to lift her head, 
Or meet those eyes whose scorching glare 
Not Yemen's boldest sons can bear? 
In whose red beam, the Moslem tells, 
Such rank and deadly lustre dwells. 
As in those hellish fires that light 
The mandrake's charnel leaves at night. 287 
How shall she bear that voice's tone, 
At whose loud battle-cry alone 
Whole squadrons oft in panic ran, 
Scatter'd like some vast caravan. 
When, stretch'd at evening round the well, 
They hear the thirsting tiger's yell! 
Breathless she stands, with eyes cast down, 
Shrinking beneath the fiery frown 
Which, fancy tells her, from that brow 
Is flashing o'er her fiercely now : 
And shuddering as she hears the tread 

Of his retiring warrior band. 
Never was pause so full of dread; 

Till Hafed with a trembling hand 
Took hers, and, leaning o'er her, said, 
"Hinda;" — that word was all he spoke. 
And 'twas enough — the shriek that broke 

From her full bosom told the rest. — 
Panting with terror, joy, surprise. 
The maid but lifts her wondering eyes. 

To hide them on her Gheber's breast! 
'Tis he, 'tis he — the man of blood, 



196 LALLA ROOKH. 

The fellest of the Fire-fiend's brood, 

Hafed, the demon of the fight, 

Whose voice unnerves, whose glances blight, — 

Is her own loved Gheber, mild 

And glorious as when first he smil'd 

In her lone tower, and left such beams 

Of his pure eye to light her dreams, 

That she believ'd her bower had given 

Rest to some wanderer from heaven. 

Moments there are, and this was one, 
Snatch'd like a minute's gleam of sun 
Amid the black Simoom's eclipse — 

Or, like those verdant spots that bloom 
Around the crater's burning lips, 

Sweetening the very edge of doom ! 
The past — the future — all that Fate 
Can bring of dark or desperate 
Around such hours, but makes them cast 
Intenser radiance while they last! 

Even he, this youth — though dimm'd and gone 

Each star of Hope that cheer'd him on — 

His glories lost — his cause betray'd — 

Iran, his dear-lov'd country, made 

A land of carcasses and slaves, 

One dreary waste of chains and graves! — 

Himself but lingering, dead at heart. 

To see the last, long struggling breath 
Of Liberty's great soul depart. 

Then lay him down and share her death — 
Even he, so sunk in wretchedness, 

With doom still darker gathering o'er him. 
Yet, in this moment's pure caress. 



LALLA ROOKH. 197 

In the mild eyes that shone before him, 
Beaming that blest assurance, worth 
All other transports known on earth, 
That he was lov'd — well, warmly lov'd — 
Oh ! in this precious hour he prov'd 
How deep, how thorough-felt the glow 
Of rapture, kindling out of woe; — 
How exquisite one single drop 
Of bliss, thus sparkling to the top 
Of misery's cup — how keenly quaff'd, 
Though death must follow on the draught! 

She, too, while gazing on those eyes 

That sink into her soul so deep, 
Forgets all fears, all miseries. 

Or feels them like the wretch in sleep, 
Whom fancy cheats into a smile. 
Who dreams of joy, and sobs the while! 
The mighty Ruins where they stood. 

Upon the mount's high, rocky verge. 
Lay open tow'rds the ocean flood. 

Where lightly o'er the illumin'd surge 
Many a fair bark that, all the day. 
Had lurk'd in sheltering creek or bay. 
Now bounded on, and gave their sails, 
Yet dripping, to the evening gales; 
Like eagles, when the storm is done, 
Spreading their wet wings in the sun. 
The beauteous clouds, though daylight's Star 
Had sunk behind the hills of Lar, 
Were still with lingering glories bright, — 
As if, to grace the gorgeous West, 

The Spirit of departing Light 
That eve had left his sunny vest 



198 LALLA ROOKH. 

Behind him, ere he wing'd his flight. 
Never was scene so form'd for love! 
Beneath them waves of crystal move 
In silent swell — Heaven glows above, 
And their pure hearts, to transport given, 
Swell like the wave, and glow like Heaven. 

But, ah! too soon that dream is past — 

Again, again her fear returns ; — 
Night, dreadful night, is gathering fast, 

More faintly the horizon burns, 
And every rosy tint that lay 
On the smooth sea hath died away. 
Hastily to the darkening skies 
A glance she casts — then wildly cries; 
"At night, he said — and look, 'tis near — 

Fly, fly — if yet thou lov'st me, fly — 
Soon will his murderous band be here. 

And I shall see thee bleed and die. — 
Hush! heard'st thou not the tramp of men 
Sounding from yonder fearful glen? — 
Perhaps e'en now they climb the wood — 

Fly, fly — though still the West is bright. 
He'll come — oh! yes — he wants thy blood 

I know him — he'll not wait for night!" 
In terrors e'en to agony 

She clings around the wondering Chief;— 
*'Alas, poor wilder'd maid! to me 

Thou ow'st this raving trance of grief. 
Lost as I am, nought ever grew 
Beneath my shade but perish 'd too — 
My doom is like the Dead Sea air, 
And nothing lives that enters there! 
Why were our barks together driven 



LALLA ROOKH. 199 

Beneath this morning's furious heaven? 
Why when I saw the prize that chance 

Had thrown into my desperate arms, — 
When, casting but a single glance 

Upon thy pale and prostrate charms, 
I vow'd (though watching viewless o'er 

Thy safety through that hour's alarms) 
To meet the unmanning sight no more — 
Why have I broke that heart- wrung vow? 
Why weakly, madly met thee now? — 
Start not — that noise is but the shock 

Of torrents through yon valley hurl'd — 
Dread nothing here — upon this rock 

We stand above the jarring world, 
Alike beyond its hope — its dread — 
In gloomy safety, like the Dead! 
Or, could e'en earth and hell unite 
In league to storm this Sacred Height, 
Fear nothing thou — myself, to-night. 
And each o'erlooking star that dwells 
Near God, will be thy sentinels; — 
And ere to-morrow's dawn shall glow, 
Back to thy sire — " 

' ' To-morrow ! — no' ' — 
The maiden scream'd — "thou'lt never see 
To-morrow's sun — death, death will be 
The night-cry through each reeking tower. 
Unless we fly, ay, fly this hour! 
Thou art betray'd — some wretch who knew 
That dreadful glen's mysterious clew — 
Nay, doubt not — by yon stars, 'tis true — 
Hath sold thee to my vengeful sire; 
This morning, with that smile so dire 
He wears in joy, he told me all. 



200 LALLA ROOKH. 

And stamp'd in triumph through our hall, 
As though thy heart already beat 
Its last life- throb beneath his feet ! 
Good Heaven, how little dream'd I then 

His victim was my own lov'd youth! — 
Fly — send — let some one watch the glen — 

By all my hopes of heaven 'tis truth!" 

Oh! colder than the wind that freezes 

Founts, that but now in sunshine play'd, 
Is that congealing pang which seizes 

The trusting bosom, when betray'd. 
He felt it — deeply felt — and stood, 
As if the tale had frozen his blood. 

So maz'd and motionless was he; — 
Like one whom sudden spells enchant. 
Or some mute, marble habitant 

Of the still Halls of Ishmonie ! 288 

But soon the painful chill was o'er. 
And his great soul, herself once more, 
Look'd from his brow in all the rays 
Of her best, happiest, grandest days. 
Never, in moment most elate. 

Did that high spirit loftier rise ; — 
While bright, serene, determinate. 

His looks are lifted to the skies. 
As if the signal lights of Fate 

Were shining in those awful eyes! 
'Tis come — his hour of martyrdom 
In Iran's sacred cause is come; 
And, though his life hath pass'd away 
Like lightning on a stormy day. 
Yet shall his death-hour leave a track 

Of glory, permanent and bright, 



LALLA ROOKH. 201 

To which the brave of after-times, 

The suffering brave, shall long look back 

With proud regret, — and by its light 

Watch through the hours of slavery's night 
For vengeance on the oppressor's crimes. 
This rock, his monument aloft. 

Shall speak the tale to many an age; 
And hither bards and heroes oft 

Shall come in sacred pilgrimage, 
And bring their warrior sons, and tell 
The wondering boys where Hafed fell; 
And swear them on those lone remains 
Of their lost country's ancient fanes. 
Never — while breath of life shall live 
Within them — never to forgive 
The accursed race, whose ruthless chain 
Hath left on Iran's neck a stain. 
Blood, blood alone can cleanse again ! 
Such are the swelling thoughts that now 
Enthrone themselves on Hafed's brow; 
And ne'er did saint of Issa 289 gaze 

On the red wreath, for martyrs twin'd. 
More proudly than the youth surveys 

That pile, which through the gloom behind, 
Half-lighted by the altar's fire. 
Glimmers — his destin'd funeral pyre! 
Heap'd by his own, his comrades' hands, 

Of every wood of odorous breath. 
There, by the Fire-God's shrine it stands, 

Ready to fold in radiant death 
The few, still left of those who swore 
To perish there, when hope was o'er — 
The few, to whom that couch of flame, 
Which rescues them from bonds and shame, 



202 LALLA ROOKH. 

Is sweet and welcome as the bed 

From their own infant Prophet spread, 

When pitying Heaven to roses turn'd 

The death-flames that beneath him burn' dl^Qo 

With watchfulness the maid attends 
His rapid glance, where'er it bends — 
Why shoot his eyes such awful beams? 
What plans he now? what thinks or dreams? 
Alas! why stands he musing here, 
When every moment teems with fear? 
*'Hafed, my own beloved Lord," 
She kneeling cries — "first, last ador'd! 
If in that soul thou'st ever felt 

Half what thy lips impassion 'd swore, 
Here, on my knees that never knelt 

To any but their God before, 
I pray thee, as thou lov'st me, fly — 
Now, now — ere yet their blades are nigh. 
Oh haste — the bark that brought me hither 

Can waft us o'er yon darkening sea 
East — west — alas, I care not whither, 

So thou art safe, and I with thee! 
Go where we will, this hand in thine. 

Those eyes before me smiling thus, 
Through good and ill, through storm and shine, 

The world's a world of love for us! 
On some calm, blessed shore we'll dwell; — 
Where 'tis no crime to love too well; — 
Where thus to worship tenderly 
An erring child of light like thee 
Will not be sin — or, if it be. 
Where we may weep our faults away. 
Together kneeling, night and day, 



LALLA ROOKH. 203 

Thou, for my sake, at Alla's shrine, 
And I — at any God's for thine!" 

Wildly these passionate words she spoke — 

Then hung her head, and wept for shame 
Sobbing as if a heart-string broke 

With every deep-heav'd sob that came. 
While he, young, warm — oh ! wonder not 

If, for a moment, pride and fame. 

His oath — his cause — that shrine of flame. 
And Iran's self are all forgot 
For her whom at his feet he sees 
Kneeling in speechless agonies. 
No, blame him not, if Hope awhile 
Dawn'd in his soul, and threw her smile 
O'er hours to come — o'er days and nights, 
Wing'd with those precious, pure delights 
Which she, who bends all beauteous there, 
Was born to kindle and to share. 
A tear or two, which, as he bow'd 

To raise the suppliant, trembling stole, 
First warn'd him of this dangerous cloud 

Of softness passing o'er his soul. 
Starting, he brush 'd the drops away, 
Unworthy o'er that cheek to stray; — 
Like one who, on the morn of fight. 
Shakes from his sword the dews of night. 
That had but dimm'd, not stain'd its light. 
Yet, though subdued the unnerving thrill, 
Its warmth, its weakness linger'd still, 

So touching in each look and tone 
That the fond, fearing, hoping maid 
Half-counted on the flight she pray'd. 

Half-thought the hero's soul was grown 



204 LALLA ROOKH. 

As soft, as yielding as her own, 
And smil'd and bless'd him, while he said,- 
"Yes — if there be some happier sphere, 
Where fadeless truth like ours is dear, — 
If there be any land of rest 

For those who love and ne'er forget, 
Oh ! comfort thee — for safe and blest 

We'll meet in that calm region yet!" 

Scarce had she time to ask her heart 
If good or ill these words impart, 
When the rous'd youth impatient flew 
To the tower-wall, where, high in view, 
A ponderous sea-horn 291 hung, and blew 
A signal, deep and dread as those 
The storm-fiend at his rising blows. — 
Full well his Chieftains, sworn and true 
Through life and death, that signal knew; 
For 'twas the appointed warning-blast. 
The alarm, to tell when hope was past, 
And the tremendous death-die cast! 
And there, upon the mouldering tower, 
Hath hung this sea-horn many an hour. 
Ready to sound o'er land and sea 
That dirge-note of the brave and free. 
They came — his Chieftains at the call 
Came slowly round, and with them all — 
Alas, how few! — the worn remains 
Of those who late o'er Kerman's plains 
Went gayly prancing to the clash 

Of Moorish zel and tymbalon, 
Catching new hopes from every flash 

Of their long lances in the sun, 
And, as their coursers charg'd the wind, 



LALLA ROOKH. 205 

And the white ox-tails stream'd behind, 292 
Looking as if the steeds they rode 
Were wing'd, and every Chief a God! 
How fallen, how alter'd now! how wan 
Each scarr'd and faded visage shone, 
As round the burning shrine they came! — 
' How deadly was the glare it cast. 
As mute they paus'd before the flame 

To light their torches as they pass'd! 
'Twas silence all — the youth had plann'd 
The duties of his soldier-band; 
And each determin'd brow declares 
His faithful Chieftains well know theirs, 
But minutes speed — night gems the skies — 
And oh, how soon, ye blessed eyes, 
That look from heaven, ye may behold 
Sights that will turn your star-fires cold! 
Breathless with awe, impatience, hope, 
The maiden sees the veteran group 
Her litter silently prepare. 

And lay it at her trembling feet; — 
And now the youth, with gentle care. 

Hath placed her in the shelter'd seat. 
And press'd her hand — that lingering press 

Of hands, that for the last time sever; 
Of hearts, whose pulse of happiness. 

When that hold breaks, is dead forever. 
And yet to her this sad caress 

Gives hope — so fondly hope can err! 
*Twas joy, she thought, joy's mute excess — 

Their happy flight's dear harbinger: 
' Twas warmth — assurance — tenderness — 

'Twas anything but leaving her. 



206 LALLA ROOKH. 

"Haste, haste!" she cried, "the clouds grow 

dark, 
But still, ere night, we'll reach the bark ; 
And by to-morrow's dawn — oh bliss! 

With thee upon the sun-bright deep, 
Far off, I'll but remember this. 

As some dark vanish'd dream of sleep; 
And thou " but ah! — he answers not — 

Good Heaven! — and does she go alone? 
She now has reach'd that dismal spot. 

Where, some hours since, his voice's tone 
Had come to soothe her fears and ills. 
Sweet as the angel Israfirs,293 
When every leaf on Eden's tree 

Is trembling to his minstrelsy — 
Yet now — oh, now, he is not nigh. — 

"Hafed! my Hafed!— if it be 
Thy will, thy doom this night to die, 

Let me but stay to die with thee. 
And I will bless thy loved name. 
Till the last life-breath leave this frame. 
Oh ! let our lips, our cheeks be laid 
But near each other while they fade; 
Let us but mix our parting breaths. 
And I can die ten thousand deaths! 
You, too, who hurry me away 
So cruelly, one moment stay — 

Oh! stay — one moment is not much — 
He yet may come — for him I pray — 
Hafed! dear Hafed! — " all the way 

In wild lamentings, that would touch 
A heart of stone, she shriek 'd his name 
To the dark woods — no Hafed came: — 
No — hapless pair — you've look'd your last: — > 



LALLA ROOKH. 207 

Your heartv^ should both have broken then. 
The dream is o'er — your doom is cast — 
You'll never meet on earth again! 

Alas for hira, who hears her cries ! 

Still half-way down the steep he stands 
Watching with fix'd and feverish eyes 

The glimmer of those burning brands, 
That down the rocks, with mournful ray, 
Light all he loves on earth away ! 
Hopeless as they who, far at sea, 

By the cold moon have just consign'd 
The corse of one, lov'd tenderly. 

To the bleak flood they leave behind; 
And on the deck still lingering stay, 
And long look back, with sad delay. 
To watch the moonlight on the wave, 
That ripples o'er that cheerless grave. 
But see — he starts — what heard he then? 
That dreadful shout ! — across the glen 
From the land-side it comes, and loud 
Rings through the chasm ; as if the crowd 
Of fearful things, that haunt that dell, 
Its Gholes and Dives and shapes of hell, 
Had all in one dread howl broke out. 
So loud, so terrible that shout! 
*'They come — the Moslems come!" he cries 
His proud soul mounting to his eyes, — 
"Now, Spirits of the Brave, who roam 
Enfranchis'^ through yon starry dome, 
Rejoice — for souls of kindred fire 
Are on the wing to join your choir!" 
He said — and, light as bridegrooms bound 

To their young loves, reclimb'd the steep 



208 LALLA ROOKH. 

And gain'd the Shrine — his Chiefs stood 
round — 
Their swords, as with instinctive leap, 
Together, at that cry accurst. 
Had from their sheaths, hke sunbeams, burst. 
And hark ! — again — again it rings ; 
Near and more near its echoings 
Peal through the chasm — oh! who that then 
Had seen those listening warrior-men. 
With their swords grasp 'd, their eyes of flame 
Turn'd on their Chief — could doubt the shame. 
The indignant shame with which they thrill 
To hear those shouts and yet stand still? 

He read their thoughts — they were his own — 

'*What! while our arms can wield these 
blades. 
Shall we die tamely? die alone? 

Without one victim to our shades. 
One Moslem heart, where, buried deep, 
The sabre from its toil may sleep? 
No — God of Iran's burning skies! 
Thou scorn 'st the inglorious sacrifice. 
No — though of all earth's hope bereft. 
Life, swords, and vengeance still are left; 
We'll made yon valley's reeking caves 

Live in the awe-struck minds of men, 
Till tyrants shudder, when their slaves 

Tell of the Gheber's bloody glen. 
Follow, brave hearts! — this pile remains 
Our refuge still from life and chains; 
But his the best, the holiest bed. 
Who sinks entomb'd in Moslem dead!" 
Down the precipitous rocks they sprung, 



LALLA ROOKH. 209 

While vigor, more than human, strung 
Each arm and heart. — The exulting foe 
Still through the dark defiles below. 
Track 'd by his torches' lurid fire, 294 

Wound slow, as through Golconda's vale 
The mighty serpent, in his ire 

Glides on with glittering, deadly trail. 
No torch the Ghebers need — so well 
They know each mystery of the dell. 
So oft have, in their wanderings, 
Cross'd the wild race that round them, dwell, 

The very tigers from their delves 
Look out and let them pass, as things 

Untam'd and fearless like themselves! 

There was a deep ravine, that lay 

Yet darkling in the Moslem's way; 

Fit spot to make invaders rue 

The many fallen before the few. 

The torrents from that morning's sky 

Had fill'd the narrow chasm breast high. 

And, on each side, aloft and wild, 

Huge cliffs and toppling crags were pil'd. 

The guards with which young Freedom lines 

The pathways to her mountain-shrines. 

Here, at this pass, the scanty band 

Of Iran's last avengers stand ; 

Here wait, in silence like the dead, 

And listen for the Moslem's tread 

So anxiously, the carrion-bird 

Above them flaps his wing unheard. 

They come — that plunge into the water 
Gives signal for the work of slaughter. 

14 



210 LALLA ROOKH. 

Now, Ghebers, now — if e'er your blades 

Had point or prowess, prove them now — 
Woe to the file that foremost wades! 

They come — a falchion greets each brow 
And, as they tumble, trunk on trunk, 
Beneath the gory waters sunk. 
Still o'er their drowning bodies press 
New victims quick and numberless; 
Till scarce an arm in Hafed's band. 

So fierce their toil, hath power to stir, 
But listless from each crimson hand 

The sword hangs, clogg'd with massacre. 
Never was horde of tyrants met 
With bloodier welcome — never yet 
To patriot vengeance hath the sword 
More terrible libations pour'd. 
All up the dreary, long ravine. 
By the red, murky glimmer seen 
Of half-quench'd brands that o'er the flood 
Lie scattered round and burn in blood. 
What ruin glares! what carnage swims! 
Heads, blazing turbans, quivering limbs. 
Lost swords that, dropp'd from many a hand. 
In that thick pool of slaughter stand; — 
Wretches who wading, half on fire 

From the toss'd brands that round them fiy, 
'Twixt flood and flame in shrieks expire; 

And some who, grasp'd by those that die, 
Sink woundless with them, smother'd o'er 
In their dead brethren's gushing gore! 

But vainly hundreds, thousands bleed, 
Still hundreds, thousands more succeed; 
Countless as tow'rds some flame at night 



LALLA ROOKH. 211 

The North's dark insects wing their flight, 

And quench or perish in its light, 

To this terrific spot they pour — 

Till, bridg'd with Moslem bodies o'er, 

It bears aloft their slippery tread, 

And o'er the dying and the dead, 

Tremendous causeway ! on they pass. 

Then, hapless Ghebers, then, alas! 

What hope was left for you? for you. 

Whose yet warm pile of sacrifice 

Is smoking in their vengeful eyes? 

Whose swords how keen, how fierce they 

knew, 
And burn with shame to find how few? 

Crush 'd down by that vast multitude. 
Some found their graves where first they stood; 
While some with hardier struggle died, 
And still fought on by Hafed's side. 
Who, fronting to the foe, trod back 
Tow'rds the high towers his gory track; 
And, as a lion swept away 

By sudden swell of Jordan's pride 
From the wild covert where he lay, 29s 

Long battles with the o'rwhelming tide. 
So fought he back with fierce delay, 
And kept both foes and fate at bay. 

But whither now? their track is lost, 

Their prey escap'd— guide, torches, gone— 
By torrent-beds and labyrinths crost, 
^^ The scatter 'd crowd rush blindly on— 
"Curse on those tardy lights that wind," 
They panting cry, "so far behind; 
Oh for a bloodhound's precious scent, 



212 LALLA ROOKH. 

To track the way the Gheber went!" 

Vain wish — confusedly along 

They rush, more desperate as more wrong; 

Till, wilder'd by the far-off lights, 

Yet glittering up those gloomy heights. 

Their footing, maz'd and lost, they miss, 

And down the darkling precipice 

Are dash'd into the deep abyss; 

Or midway hang, impal'd on rocks, 

A banquet, yet alive, for flocks 

Of ravening vultures, — while the dell 

Re-echoes with each horrible yell. 

Those sounds — the last, to vengeance dear, 

That e'er shall ring in Hafed's ear, — 

Now reach 'd him, as aloft, alone. 

Upon the steep way breathless thrown. 

He lay beside his reeking blade. 

Resign 'd, as if life's task were o'er, 
Its last blood-offering amply paid, 

And Iran's self could claim no more. 
One only thought, one lingering beam 
Now broke across his dizzy dream 
Of pain and weariness — 'twas she. 

His heart's pure planet, shining yet 
Above the waste of memory, 

When all life's other lights were set. 
And never to his mind before 
Her image such enchantment wore. 
It seem'd as if each thought that stain'd. 

Each fear that chill'd their loves, was past, 
And not one cloud of earth remain'd 

Between him and her radiance cast; — 
As if to charms, before so bright. 

New grace from other worlds was given 



LALLA ROOKH. 213 

And his soul saw her by the light 
Now breaking o'er itself from heaven ! 
A voice spoke near him — 'twas the tone 
Of a lov'd friend, the only one 
Of all his warriors, left with life 
From that short night's tremendous strife. — 
"And must we then, my Chief, die here? 
Foes round us, and the Shrine so near!" 
These words have roused the last remains 

Of life within him — "What! not yet 
Beyond the reach of Moslem chains!" 

The thought could make e'en Death forget 
His icy bondage — with a bound 
He springs, all bleeding, from the ground. 
And grasps his comrade's arm, now grown 
E'en feebler, heavier than his own, 
And up the painful pathway leads, 
Death gaining on each step he treads. 
Speed them, thou God, who hear'st their vow! 
They mount — they bleed — oh, save them now. 
The crags are red they've clamber'd o'er. 
The rock- weed's dripping with their gore; — • 
Thy blade too, Hafed, false at length, 
Now breaks, beneath thy tottering strength ! 
Haste, haste — the voices of the Foe 
Come near and nearer from below — 
One effort more — thank Heaven! 'tis past, 
They've gained the topmost steep at last. 
And now they touch the temple's walls, 

Now Hafed sees the Fire divine — 
When, lo! — his weak, worn comrade falls 

Dead on the threshold of the Shrine. 
"Alas, brave soul, too quickly fled! 

And must I leave thee withering here^ 



214 LALLA ROOKH. 

The sport of every ruffian's tread, 

The mark for every coward's spear? 
No, by yon altar's sacred beams!" 
He cries, and, with a strength that seems 
Not of this world, uplifts the frame 
Of the fallen Chief, and tow'rds the flame 
Bears him along; — with death-damp hand 

The corpse upon the pyre he lays. 
Then lights the consecrated brand. 

And fires the pile, whose sudden blaze 
Like lightning bursts o'er Oman's Sea. — 
"Now, Freedom's God! I come to Thee," 
The youth exclaims, and with a smile 
Of triumph vaulting on the pile 
In that last effort, ere the fires 
Have harm'd one glorious limb, expires. 

What shriek was that on Oman's tide? 

It came from yonder drifting bark, 
That just hath caught upon her side 

The death-light — and again is dark. 
It is the boat— ah, why delay'd? — 
That bears the wretched Moslem maid; 
Confided to the watchful care 

Of a small veteran band, with whom 
Their generous Chieftain would not share 

The secret of his final doom. 
But hop'd when Hinda, safe and free. 

Was render'd to her father's eyes, 
Their pardon, full and prompt would be 

The ransom of so dear a prize. — 
Unconscious, thus, of Hafed's fate, 
And proud to guard their beauteous freight, 
Scarce had they clear'd the surfy waves 



LALLA ROOKH. 215 

That foam around those frightful caves, 
When the curst war-whoops, known so well, 
Came echoing from the distant dell, — 
Sudden each oar, upheld and still, 

Hung dripping o'er the vessel's side, 
And, driving at the current's will, 

They rock'd along the whispering tide; 
While every eye, in mute dismay. 

Was tow'rd that fatal mountain turn'd. 
Where the dim altar's quivering way 

As yet all lone and tranquil burn'd. 

Oh! 'tis not, Hinda, in the power 

Of Fancy's most terrific touch 
To paint thy pangs in that dread hour — 

Thy silent agony — 'twas such 
As those who feel could paint too well, 
But none e'er felt and lived to tell! 
'Twas not alone the dreary state 
Of a lorn spirit crush'd by fate. 
When, though no more remains to dread. 

The panic chill will not depart; — 
When, though the inmate Hope be dead. 

Her ghost still haunts the mouldering heart. 
No — pleasures, hope, affections gone, 
The wretch may bear, and yet live on, 
Like things, within the cold rock found 
Alive, when all's congeal'd around. 
But there's a blank repose in this, 
A calm stagnation, that were bliss 
To the keen, burning, harrowing pain. 
Now felt through all thy breast and brain ; — 
That spasm of terror, mute, intense. 
That breathless, agoniz'd suspense, 



216 LALLA ROOI^H. 

From whose hot throb, whose deadly aching, 
The heart hath no relief but breaking ! 

Calm is the wave — heaven's brilliant lights 

Reflected dance beneath the prow ; — 
Time was when, on such lovely nights, 

She who is there, so desolate now. 
Could sit all cheerful, though alone, 

And ask no happier joy than seeing 
That starlight o'er the waters thrown — 
No joy but that, to make her blest. 

And the fresh, buoyant sense of being. 
Which bounds in youth's yet careless breast, — • 
Itself a star, not borrowing light, 
But in its own glad essence bright. 
How different now! — but, hark, again 
The yell of havoc rings! — brave men. 
In vain, with beating hearts, ye stand 
On the bark's edge — in vain each hand 
Half draws the falchion from its sheath ; 

All's o'er — in rust your blades may lie : — 
He, at whose word they've scatter'd death, 

E'en now, this night, himself must die! 
Well may ye look to yon dim tower. 

And ask, and wondering, guess what means 
The battle-cry at this dead hour — 

Ah ! she could tell you — she, who leans 
Unheeded there, pale, sunk, aghast, 
With brow against the dew-cold mast; 

Too well she knows — her more than life, 
Her soul's first idol and its last, 
Lies bleeding in that murderous strife. 
But see — what moves upon the height? 
Some signal! — 'tis a torch's light. 



LALLA ROOKH. 217 

What bodes its solitary glare? 
In gasping silence tow'rd the Shrine 
All eyes are turn'd — thine, Hinda, thine 

Fix their last fading life-beams there. 
'Twas but a moment — fierce and high 
The death-pile blaz'd into the sky, 
And far away, o'er rock and flood, 

Its melancholy radiance sent; 
While Hafed, like a vision, stood 
Reveal' d before the burning pyre. 
Tall, shadowy, like a Spirit of Fire 

Shrin'd in its own grand element! 
" 'Tis he!" — she shuddering maid exclaims, — 

But, while she speaks, he's seen no more; 
High burst in air the funeral flames. 

And Iran's hopes and hers are o'er! 
One wild, heart-broken shriek she gave ; 

Then sprung, as if to reach that blaze, 

Where still she fix'd her dying gaze. 
And, gazing, sunk into the wave, — 
Deep, deep, — where never care or pain 
Shall reach her innocent heart again ! 



Farewell — farewell to thee, Araby's daughter! 

(Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea), 
No pearl ever lay, under Oman's green water. 

More pure in its shell than thy spirit in thee. 

Oh ! fair as the sea-flower close to thee growing, 
How light was thy heart till Love's witchery 

came, 
Like the wind of the south 296 o'er a summer 

lute blowing. 



218 LALLA ROOKH. 

And hush'd all its music, and wither'd its 
frame ! 

But long-, upon Araby's green sunny high- 
lands. 
Shall maids and their lovers remember the 
doom 
Of her, who lies sleeping among the Pearl 
Islands, 
With nought but the sea-star 297 to light up 
her tomb. 

And still, when the merry date-season is burn- 
ing, 
And calls to the palm-groves the young and 
the old, 
The happiest there, from their pastime return- 
ing 
At sunset, will weep when the story is told. 

The young village-maid, when with flowers she 

dresses 

Her dark flowing hair for some festival day, 

Will think of thy fate till, neglecting her 

tresses. 

She mournfully turns from the mirror away. 

Nor shall Iran, belov'd of her Hero! forget 

thee — 
Though tyrants watch over her tears as they 

start. 
Close, close by the side of that Hero she'll set 

thee. 



LALLA ROOKH. 219 

Embalm 'd in the innermost shrine of her 
heart. 



Farewell — be it ours to embellish thy pillow 
With everything beauteous that grows in the 
deep; 
Each flower of the rock and each gem of the 
billow 
Shall sweeten thy bed and illumine thy sleep. 

Around thee shall glisten the loveliest amber 
That ever the sorrowing sea-bird has wept ;299 

With many a shell, in whose hollow-wreath'd 
chamber 
We, Peris of Ocean, by moonlight have slept. 

We'll dive where the gardens of coral lie dark- 
ling, 
And plant all the rosiest stems at thy head ; 
We'll seek where the sands of the Caspian 3°° 
are sparkling, 
And gather their gold to strew over thy bed. 

Farewell — farewell — until Pity's sweet fountain 

Is lost in the hearts of the fair and the brave, 

They'll weep for the Chieftain who died on 

that mountain, 

They'll weep for the Maiden who sleeps in 

this wave. 

The singular placidity with which Fadladeen 
had listened, during the latter part of this 
obnoxious story, surprised the Princess and 



220 LALLA ROOKH. 

Feramorz exceedingly; and even inclined 
towards him the hearts of these unsuspicious 
young persons, who little knew the source of 
a complacency so marvelous. The truth was, 
he had been organizing, for the last few days, 
a most notable plan of persecution against the 
Poet, in consequence of some passages that 
had fallen from him on the second evening of 
recital, —which appeared to this worthy Cham- 
berlain to contain language and principles, for 
which nothing short of the summary criticism 
of the Chabuk 3o' would be advisable. It was 
his intention, therefore, immediately on their 
arrival at Cashmere, to give information to the 
King of Bucharia of the very dangerous senti- 
ments of his minstrel; and if, unfortunately, 
that monarch did not act with suitable vigor on 
the occasion, (that is, if he did not give the 
Chabuk to Feramorz, and a place to Fadladeen) 
there would be an end, he feared, of all legiti- 
mate government in Bucharia. He could not 
help, however, auguring better both for himself 
and the cause of potentates in general ; and it 
was the pleasure arising from these mingled 
anticipations that diffused such unusual satis- 
faction through his features, and made his eyes 
shine out, like poppies of the desert, over the 
wide and lifeless wilderness of that counte- 
nance. 

Having decided upon the Poet's chastisement 
in this manner, he thought it but humanity to 
spare him the minor tortures of criticism. 
Accordingly, when they assembled the follow- 
ing evening in the pavilion, and Lalla Rookh 



LALLA ROOKH. 221 

was expecting to see all the beauties of her 
bard melt away, one by one, in the acidity of 
criticism, like pearls in the cup of the Egyptian 
queen, — he agreeably disappointed her, by 
merely saying, with an ironical smile, that the 
merits of such a poem deserved to be tried at a 
much higher tribunal; and then suddenly 
passed off into a panegyric upon all Mussulman 
sovereigns, more particularly his august and 
Imperial master, Aurungzebe, — the wisest and 
best of the descendants of Timur, — who, among 
other great things he had done for mankind, 
had given to him, Fadladeen, the very profit- 
able posts of Betel-carrier and Taster of Sher- 
bets to the Emperor, Chief Holder of the 
Girdle of Beautiful Forms,3o2 and Grand Nazir, 
or Chamberlain of the Haram. 

They were now not far from that Forbidden 
River,3o3 beyond which no pure Hindo can 
pass ; and were reposing for a time in the rich 
valley of Hussun Abdaul, which had always 
been a favorite resting-place of the Emperors 
in their annual migrations to Cashmere. Here 
often had the Light of Faith, Jehan-Guire, 
been know to wander with his beloved and 
beautiful Nourmahal; and here would Lalla 
Pvookh have been happy to remain forever, 
jT:iving up the throne of Bucharia and the world 
for Feramorz and love in this sweet, lonely 
valley. But the time was now fast approach- 
ing when she must see him no longer, — or, 
what was still worse, behold him with eyes 
whose every look belonged to another; and 
there was a melancholy preciousness in these 



222 LALLA ROOKH. 

last moments, which made her heart cling to 
them as it would to life. During the latter 
part of the journey, indeed, she had sunk into 
a deep sadness, from which nothing but the 
presence of the young minstrel could awake 
her. Like those lamps in tombs, which only 
light up when the air is admitted, it was only 
at his approach that her eyes became smiling 
and animated. But here, in this dear valley, 
every moment appeared an age of pleasure; 
she saw him all day, and was, therefore, all 
day happy, — resembling, she often thought, 
that people of Zinge, who attribute the unfad- 
ing cheerfulness they enjoy to one genial star 
that rises nightly over their heads. 304 

The whole party, indeed, seemed in their 
liveliest mood during the few days they passed 
in this delightful solitude. The young attend- 
ants of the Princess, who were here allowed a 
much freer range than they could safely be 
indulged with in a less sequestered place, ran 
wild among the gardens and bounded through 
the meadows, lightly as young roes over the 
aromatic plains of Thibet. While Fadladeen, 
in addition to the spiritual comfort derived by 
him from a pilgrimage to the tomb of the Saint 
from whom the valley is named, had also 
opportunities of indulging, in a small way, his 
taste for victims, by putting to death some 
hundreds of those unfortunate little lizards 3os 
which all pious Mussulmans make it a point to 
kill ; — taking for granted, that the manner in 
which the creature hangs its head is meant as 



LALLA ROOKH. 223 

a mimicry of the attitude in which the Faithful 
say their prayers. 

About two miles from Hussun Abdaul were 
those Royal Gardens 3o6 which had grown 
beautiful under the care of so many lovely eyes, 
and were beautiful still, though those eyes 
could see them no longer. This place, with its 
flowers and its holy silence, interrupted only 
by the dipping of the wings of birds in its 
marble basins filled with the pure water of 
those hills, was to Lalla Rookh all that her 
heart could fancy of fragrance, coolness, and 
almost heavenly tranquillity. As the Prophet 
said of Damascus, "It was too delicious;" 307 
and here, in listening to the sweet voice of 
Feramorz, or reading in his eyes what yet he 
never dared to tell her, the most exquisite 
moments of her whole life were passed. One 
evening, when they had been talking of the 
Sultana Nourmahal, the Light of the Haram,3o8 
who had so often wandered among these 
flowers, and fed with her own hands, in those 
marble basins, the small shining fishes of which 
she .was so fond, 309 — the youth, in order to 
delay the moment of separation, proposed to 
recite a short story, or rather rhapsody, of 
which this adored Sultana was the heroine. It 
related, he said, to the reconcilement of a sort 
of lovers' quarrel which took place between her 
and the Emperor during a Feast of Roses at 
Cashmere ; and would remind the Princess of 
that difference between Plaroun-al-Raschid and 
his fair mistress Marida 3io which was so happily 
made up by the soft strains of the musician 



224 LALLA ROOKH. 

Moussali. As the story was chiefly to be told 
in song, and Feramorz had unluckily forgotten 
his own lute in the valley, he borrowed the 
vina of Lalla Rookh's little Persian slave, and 
thus began: 

THE LIGHT OF THE HARAM. 

Who has not heard of the vale of Cashmere, 
With its roses the brightest that earth ever 
gave,3" 
Its temples, and grottoes, and fountains as clear 
As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their 
wave? 

Oh! to see it at sunset, — when warm o'er the 
Lake 
Its splendor at parting a summer eve throws, 
Like a bride, full of blushes, when ling'ring to 
take 
A last look of her mirror at night ere she 
goes ! — 
When the shrines through the foliage are gleam- 
ing half shown. 
And each hallows the hour by some rites of its 

own. 
Here the music of pray'r from a minaret swells. 
Here the Magian his urn, full of perfume, is 
swinging. 
And here, at the altar, a zone of sweet bells 
Round the waist of some fair Indian dancer 
is ringing. 312 
Or to see it by moonlight, — when mellowly 
shines 




To hide them on her Gheber's breast." — Page 195. 

Lalla Rookli. 



LALLA ROOKH. 225 

The light o'er its palaces, gardens, and 

shrines ; 
When the water-falls gleam, like a quick fall 

of stars, 
And the nightingale's hymn from the Isle of 

Chenars 
Is broken by laughs and light echoes of feet 
From the cool, shining walks where the young 

people meet, — 
Or at morn, when the magic of daylight 

awakes 
A new wonder each minute, as lowly it breaks, 
Hills, cupolas, fountains, call'd forth every one 
Out of darkness, as if but just born of the Sun. 
When the Spirit of Fragrance is up with the 

day, 
From his Haram of night-flowers stealing 

away ; 
And the wind, full of wantonness, woos like a 

lover 
The young aspen-trees, 3i3 till they tremble all 

over. 
When the East is as warm as the light of first 

hopes 
And Day, with his banner of radiance un- 

furl'd, 
Shines in through the mountainous portal3M 

that opes. 
Sublime, from that Valley of Bliss to the 

world ! 

But never yet, by night or day, 
In dew of spring or summer's ray, 
Did the sweet Valley shine so gay 

15 



226 LALLA ROOKH. 

As now it shines — all love and light, 

Visions by day and feasts by night! 
A happier smile illumes each brow, 

With quicker spread each heart encloses, 
And all is ecstasy — for now 

The Valley holds its Feast of Roses ;3i5 
The joyous Time, when pleasures pour 
Profusely round, and, in their shower. 
Hearts open, like the Season's Rose, — 

The Flow 'ret of a hundred leaves, 3i6 
Expanding while the dew-fall flows, 

And every leaf its balm receives. 

'Twas when the hour of evening came 

Upon the Lake, serene and cool, 
When Day had hid his sultr)^ flame 

Behind the palms of Baramoule,3i7 
When maids began to lift their heads, 
Refresh'd from their embroider'd beds, 
Where they had slept the sun away. 
And wak'd to moonlight and to play. 
All were abroad — the busiest hive 
On Bela's ^^^ hills is less alive. 
When saffron-beds are full in flower, 
Than look'd the Valley in that hour. 
A thousand restless torches play'd 
Through every grove and island shade; 
A thousand sparkling lamps were set 
On every dome and minaret; 
And fields and pathways, far and near, 
Were lighted by a blaze so clear. 
That you could see, in wandering round, 
The smallest rose-leaf on the ground. 
Yet did the maids and matrons leave 



LALLA ROOKH. 227 

Their veils at home, that brilliant eve ; 
And there were glancing eyes about 
And cheeks, that would not dare shine out 
In open day, but thought they might 
Look lovely then, because 'twas night. 
And all were free, and wandering, 

And all exclaim'd to all they met, 
That never did the summer bring 

So gay a Feast of Roses yet ; — 
The moon had never shed a light 

So clear as that which bless'd them there; 
The roses ne'er shone half so bright. 

Nor they themselves look'd half so fair. 
And what a wilderness of flowers! 
It seem'd as though from all the bowers 
And fairest fields of all the year. 
The mingled spoil were scatter'd here. 
The Lake, too, like a garden breathes, 

With the rich buds that o'er it lie, — 
As if a shower of fairy wreaths 

Had fall'n upon it from the sky! 
And then the sounds of joy, — the beat 
Of tabors and of dancing feet; — 
The minaret-crier's chant of glee 
Sung from his lighted gallery, 3'9 
And answer'd by a ziraleet 
From neighboring Haram, wild and sweet; — ' 
The merry laughter, echoing 
From gardens, where the silken swing32o 
Wafts some delighted girl above 
The top leaves of the orange grove ; 
Or, from those infant groups at play 
Among the tents 321 that line the way, 

Flinging, unaw'd by slave or mother. 



228 LALLA ROOKH. 

Handfuls of roses at each other. — 
Then, the sounds from the Lake, the low whis- 
pering in boats, 
As they shoot through the moonlight; — the 

dipping of oars, 
And the wild, airy warbling that everywhere 

floats 
Through the groves, round the islands, as if 

all the shores. 
Like those of Kathay, utter' d music, and gave 
An answer in song to the kiss of each wave, 322 
But the gentlest of all are those sounds, full 

of feeling. 
That soft from the lute of some lover are steal- 
ing,— 
Some lover, who knows all the heart-touching 

power 
Of a lute and a sigh in this magical hour. 
Oh ! best of delights as it everywhere is 
To be near the lov'd One, — what a rapture is 

his 
Who in moonlight and music thus sweetly may 

glide 
O'er the Lake of Cashmere, with that One by 

his side! 
If woman can make the worst wilderness dear. 
Think, think what a Heaven she must make of 

Cashmere! 
So felt the magnificent Son of Acbar,323 
When from power and pomp and the trophies 

of war 
He flew to that Valley, forgetting them all 
With the Light of the Haram, his young Nour-, 

mahal. 



LALLA ROOKH. 229 

When free and uncrown 'd as the Conqueror 

rov'd 
By the banks of that Lake, with his only be- 

lov'd, 
He saw, in the wreaths she would playfully 

snatch 
From the hedges, a glory his crown could not 

match. 
And preferr'd in his heart the least ringlet that 

curl'd 
Down her exquisite neck to the throne of the 

world. 

There's a beauty, forever unchangingly bright, 
Like the long, sunny lapse of a summer-day's 

light, 
Shining on, shining on, by no shadow made 

tender, 
Till Love falls asleep in its sameness of splen- 
dor. 
This was not the beauty — oh, nothing like this, 
That to young Nourmahal gave such magic of 

bliss! 
But that loveliness, ever in motion, which plays 
Like the light upon autumn's soft shadowy 

days. 
Now here and now there, giving warmth as it 

flies 
From the lip to the cheek, from the cheek to 

the eyes; 
Now melting in mist and now breaking in 

gleams 
Like the glimpses a saint hath of Heav'n in his 

dreams. 



230 LALLA ROOKH. 

When pensive, it seem'd as if that very grace, 
That charm of all others, was born with her 

face! 
And when angry, — for e'en in the tranquilest 

climes 
Light breezes will rufHe the blossoms some- 
times — 
The short, passing anger but seem'd to awaken 
New beauty, like flowers that are sweetest 

when shaken. 
If tenderness touch'd her, the dark of her eye 
At once took a darker, a heavenlier dye, 
From the depth of whose shadow, like holy 

revealings 
From innermost shrines, came the light of her 

feelings 
Then her mirth — oh! 'twas sportive as ever 

took wing 
From the heart with a burst, like the wild-bird 

in spring; 
Ilium 'd by a wit that would fascinate sages, 
Yet playful as Peris just loos'd from their 

cages, 324 
"While her laugh, full of life, without any con- 
trol 
But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung from 

her soul; 
And where it most sparkled no glance could 

discover. 
In lip, cheek, or eyes, for she brighten 'd all 

over, — 
Like any fair lake that the breeze is upon, 
When it breaks into dimples and laughs in the 

sun. 



LALLA ROOKH. 231 

Such, such were the peerless enchantments 
that gave 

Nourmahal the proud Lord of the East for her 
slave : 

And though bright was his Haram, — a living 
parterre 

Of the flowers 325 of this planet — though treas- 
ures were there, 

For which Solomon's self might have giv'n all 
the store 

That the navy from Ophir e'er wing'd to his 
shore, 

Yet dim before her were the smiles of them all. 

And the Light of his Haram was young Nour- 
mahal ! 

But where is she now, this night of joy, 
When bliss is every heart's employ? 

When all around her is so bright, 
So like the visions of a trance, 
That one might think, who came by chance 

Into the Vale this happy night. 

He saw that City of Delight^^e 
In Fairy-land whose streets and towers 
Are made of gems and light and flowers! — 
Where is the lov'd Sultana? where. 
When mirth brings out the young and fair, 
Does she, the fairest, hide her brow 
In melancholy stillness now? 
Alas! — how light a cause may move 
Dissension between hearts that love! 
Hearts that the world in vain had tried, 
And sorrow but more closely tied; 
That stood the storm, when waves were rough, 



232 LALLA ROOKH. 

Yet in a sunny hour fall off, 
Like ships that have gone down at sea, 
When heaven was all tranquility! 
A something, light as air — a look, 
A word unkind or wrongly taken — 
Oh! love, that tempests never shook, 

A breath, a touch like this hath shaken. 
And ruder words will soon rush in 
To spread the breach that words begin ; 
And eyes forget the gentle ray 
They wore in courtship's smiling day; 
And voices lose the tone that shed 
A tenderness round all they said; 
Till fast declining, one by one. 
The sweetnesses of love are gone, 
And hearts, so lately mingled, seem 
Like broken clouds — or like the stream, 
That smiling left the mountain's brow 

As though its waters ne'er could sever, 
Yet, ere it reach the plain below. 

Breaks into floods that part forever. 
Oh, you, that have the charge of Love, 

Keep him in rosy bondage bound, 
As in the fields of bliss above 

He sits, with flow'retsfetter'd round; 327 
Loose not a tie that round him clings, 
Nor ever let him use his wings; 
For e'en an hour, a minute's flight 
Will rob the plumes of half their light: 
Like that celestial bird, — whose nest 

Is found beneath far Eastern skies, — 
Whose wings, though radiant when at rest, 

Lose all their glory when he flies !328 
Some difference, of this dangerous kind, — 



LALLA ROOKH. 233 

By which, though light, the links that bind 

The fondest hearts may soon be riven ; 

Some shadow in Love's summer heaven, 

Which, though a fleecy speck at first. 

May yet in an awful thunder burst ; — 

Such cloud it is that now hangs over 

The heart of the Imperial Lover, 

And far hath banish'd from his sight 

His Nourmahal, his Haram's Light! 

Hence it is, on this happy night. 

When Pleasure through the fields and groves 

Hcts let loose all her world of loves, 

And every heart has found its own, 

He wanders, joyless and alone. 

And weary as that bird of Thrace 

Whose pinion knows no resting-place. 329 

In vain the loveliest cheeks and eyes 

This Eden of the earth supplies 

Come crowding round— the cheeks are pale. 
The eyes are dim : — though rich the spot 
With every flow'r this earth has got, 

What is it to the nightingale, 
If there his darling rose is not?33o 
In vain the Valley's smiling throng 
Worship him, as he moves along ; 
He heeds them not — one smile of hers 
Is worth a world of worshippers. 
They but the Star's adorers are, 
She is the Heav'n that lights the Star! 

Hence is it, too, that Nourmahal, 

Amid the luxuries of this hour, 
Far from the joyous festival, 

Sits in her own sequester' d bower, 



234 LALLA ROOKH. 

With no one near, to soothe or aid, 
But that inspir'd and wondrous maid, 
Namouna, the Enchantress; — one. 
O'er whom his race the golden sun 
For unremember'd years has run. 
Yet never saw her blooming brow 
Younger or fairer than 'tis now. 
Nay, rather, — as the west wind's sigh 
Freshens the flower it passes by, — 
Time's wing but seem'd, in stealing o'er, 
To leave her lovelier than before. 
Yet on her smiles a sadness hung, 
And when, as oft, she spoke or sung 
Of other worlds, there came a light 
From her dark eyes so strangely bright, 
That all believ'd nor man nor earth 
Were conscious of Namouna's birth! 
All spells and talismans she knew. 

From the great Mantra, 33i which around 
The Air's sublimer Spirits drew, 

To the gold gems 332 of Afric, bound 
Upon the wandering Arab's arm, 
To keep him from the Siltim's 333 harm. 
And she had pledg'd her powerful art, — 
Pledg'd it with all the zeal and heart 
Of one who knew, though high her sphere, 
What 'twas to lose a love so dear, — 
To find some spell that should recall 
Her Selim's 334 smile to Nourmahal! 

'Twas midnight — through the lattice, wreath'd 
With woodbine, many a perfume breath'd 
From plants that wake when others sleep 
From timid jasmine buds, that keep 



LALLA ROOKH. 235 

Their odor to themselves all day, 

But, when the sunlight dies away. 

Let the delicious secret out 

To every breeze that roams about; — 

When thus Namouna: — " 'Tis the hour 

That scatters spells on herb and flower, 

And garlands might be gather'd now. 

That, twin'd around the sleeper's brow, 

Would make him dream of such delights, 

Such miracles and dazzling sights. 

As Genii of the Sun behold, 

At evening, from their tents of gold, 

Upon the horizon — where they play 

Till twilight comes, and, ray by ray, 

Their sunny mansions melt away. 

Now, too, a chaplet might be wreath'd 

Of buds o'er which the moon has breath'd. 

Which worn by her, whose love has stray'd, 

Might bring some Peri from the skies. 
Some sprite, whose very soul is made 

Of flow'rts' breaths and lovers' sighs, 
And who might tell " 

''For me, for me," 
Cried Nourmahal impatiently, — 
"Oh! twine that wreath for me to-night." 
Then, rapidly, with foot as light 
As the young musk- roe's, out she flew. 
To cull each shining leaf that grew 
Beneath the moonlight's hallowing beams, 
For this enchanted Wreath of Dreams. 
Anemones and Seas of Gold, 335 

And new-blown lilies of the river. 
And those sweet flow'rets that unfold 



236 LALLA ROOKH. 

Their buds on Camadeva's quiver ;336 
The tuberose, with her silvery light, 

That in the Gardens of Malay 
Is called the Mistress of the Night, 337 
So like a bride, scented and bright, 

She comes out when the sun's away; — 
Amaranths, such as crown the maids 
That wander through Zamara's shades ;338 — 
And the white moon-flower, as it shows, 
On Serendib's high crags, to those 
Who near the isle at evening sail, 
Scenting her clove-trees in the gale ; 
In short, all flow'rets and all plants, 

From the divine Amrita tree, 339 
That blesses heaven's inhabitants 

With fruits of immortality, 
Down to the basil tuft, 34° that waves 
Its fragrant blossom over graves, 

And to the humble rosemary, 
Whose sweets so thanklessly are shed 
To scent the desert 34' and the dead: — 
All in that garden bloom, and all 
Are gathered by young Nourmahal 
Who heaps her basket with the flowers 

And leaves, till they can hold no more; 
Then to Namouna flies, and showers 
Upon her lap the shining store. 

With what delight the Enchantress views 

So many buds, bath'd with the dews 

And beams of that bless'd hour!— her glance 

Spoke something, past all mortal pleasures, 
As in a kind of holy trance. 

She hung above those fragrant treasures, 



LALLA ROOKH. 237 

Bending to drink their balmy airs, 
As if she mix'd her soul with theirs. 
And 'twas, indeed, the perfume shed 
From fiow'rs and scented flame, that fed 
Her charmed life — for none had e'er 
Beheld her taste of mortal fare. 
Nor ever in aught earthly dip, 
But the morn's dew, her roseate lip. 
Fill'd with the cool, inspiring smell, 
The Enchantress now begins her spell, 
Thus singing as she winds and weaves 
In mystic form the glittering leaves: — 



I know where the wing'd visions dwell 

That around the night-bed play ; 
I know each herb and flow'ret's bell. 
Where they hide their wings by day. 
Then hasten we, maid, 
To twine our braid, 
To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 

The image of love, that nightly flies 

To visit the bashful maid, 
Steals, from the jasmine flower, that sighs 

Its soul, like her, in the shade. 
The dream of a future, happier hour, 

That alight'son misery's brow, 
Springs out of the silvery almond-flower. 

That blooms on a leafless bough. 342 
Then hasten we, maid, 
To twine our braid, 
To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 



238 LALLA ROOKH. 

The visions, that oft to worldly eyes 

The glitter of mines unfold, 
Inhabit the mountain-herb,34.3 that dyes 

The tooth of the fawn like gold. 
The phantom shapes — oh touch not them ! — 

That appal the murderer's sight. 
Lurk in the fleshly mandrake's stem, 

That shrieks, when pluck 'd at night! 
Then hasten we, maid, 
To twine our braid, 
To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 

The dream of the injur'd, patient mind, 

That smiles at the wrongs of men, 
Is found in the bruis'd and wounded rind 
Of the cinnamon, sweetest then. 
Then hasten we, maid. 
To twine our braid, 
To-morrow the dreams and flowers will fade. 

No sooner was the flowery crown 

Plac'd on her head, than sleep came down, 

Gently as nights of summer fall, 

Upon the lids of Nourmahal ; — 

And, suddenly, a tuneful breeze, 

As full of small, rich harmonies 

As ever wind, that o'er the tents 

Of Azab 344 blew, was full of scents. 

Steals on her ear, and floats and swells. 

Like the first air of morning creeping 
Into those wreathy, Red-Sea shells. 

Where Love himself, old, lay sleeping; 34S 
And now a Spirit form'd, 'twould seem, 

Of music and of light, — so fair, 



LALLA ROOKH. 239 

So brilliantly his features beam, 
And stich a sound is in the air 
Of sweetness when he waves his wings, 
Hovers around her, and thus sings : — 

From Chindara's 346 warbling fount I come, 

Call'd by that moonlight garland's spell; 
From Chindara's fount, my fairy home, 

Where in music, morn and night, I dwell : 
Where lutes in the air are heard about, 

And voices are singing the whole day long, 
And every sigh the heart breathes out 

Is turn'd, as it leaves the lips, to song! 
Hither I come 
From my fairy home ; 
And if there's a magic in Music's strain, 
I swear by the breath 
Of that moonlight wreath. 
Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again. 
For mine is the lay that lightly floats. 
And mine are the murmuring, dying notes. 
That fall as soft as snow on the sea. 
And melt in the heart as instantly: — 
And the passionate strain that, deeply going. 

Refines the bosom it trembles through. 
As the musk-wind, over the water blowing. 

Ruffles the wave, but sweetens it too. 

Mine is the charm, whose mystic sway 
The Spirits of past Delights obey; 
Let but the tuneful talisman sound. 
And they come, like Genii, hovering round. 
And mine is the gentle song that bears 
From soul to soul the wishes of love. 



240 LALLA ROOKH. 

As a bird, that wafts through genial airs 
The cinnamon-seed from grove to grove. 347 

'Tis I that mingle in one sweet measure 
The past, the present, and future of pleasure ; 348 
When Memory links the tone that is gone 

With the blissful tone that is still in the ear; 
And Hope from a heavenly note flies on 

To a note more heavenly still that is near, 
The v/arrior's heart, when touch'd by me, 
Can as downy soft and as yielding be 
As his own white plume, that high amid death 
Through the field has shown — yet moves with 

a breath ! 
And oh ! how the eyes of Beauty glisten, 

When Music has reached her inward soul, 
Like the silent stars, that wink and listen 
When Heaven's eternal melodies roll. 
So, hither I come 
From my fairy home ; 
And if there's a magic in Music's strain, 
I swear by the breath 
Of that moonlight wreath, 
Thy Lover shall sigh at thy feet again. 



'Tis dawn — at least that earlier dawn, 
Whose glimpses are again withdrawn, 349 
As if the morn had wak'd, and then 
Shut close her lids of light again. 
And Nourmahal is up and trying 

The wonders of her lute, whose strings — 
Oh, bliss! — now murmur like the sighing 

From that ambrosial Spirit's wings. 



LALLA ROOKH. 241 

And then, her voice — 'tis more than human — 

Never, till now, had it been given 
To lips of any mortal woman 

To utter notes so fresh from heaven ; 
Sweet as the breath of angels' sighs. 

When angel sighs are most divine. — 
"Oh! let it last till night," she cries, 

"And he is more than ever mine. " 
And hourly she renews the lay. 

So fearful lest its heavenly sweetness 
Should, ere the evening, fade aw^ay, — 

For things so heavenly have such fleetness 
But, far from fading, it but grows 
Richer, diviner, as it flows; 
Till rapt she dwells on every string, 

And pours again each sound along, 
Like echo, lost and languishing, 

In love with her own wondrous song. 
That evening (trusting that his soul 

Might be from haunting love releas'd 
By mirth, by music, and the bowl), 

The Irnperial Selim held a feast 
In his magnificent Shalimar: 35o — 
In whose Saloons, when the first star 
Of evening o'er the waters trembled, 
The Valley's loveliest all assembled; 
All the bright creatures that, like dreams, 
Glide through its foliage, and drink beams 
Of beauty from its founts and streams; 35' 
And all those wandering minstrel-maids, 
Who leave — how can they leave? — the shades 
Of that dear Valley, and are found 

Singing in Gardens of the South 352 
Those songs, that ne'er so sweetly sound 

16 



242 LALLA ROOKH. 

As from a young Cashmerian's mouth. 
There, too, the Haram's inmates smile; — 

Maids from the West, with sun-bright hair, 
And from the Garden of the Nile, 
Delicate as the roses there ; 353 — 
Daughter of Love from Cyprus' rocks, 
With Paphiam diamonds in their locks 354 — 
Like Peri forms, such as there are 
On the gold meads of Candahar; 355 
And they, before whose sleepy eyes, 

In their own bright Kathaian bowers. 
Sparkle such rainbow butterflies. 

That they might fancy the rich flowers, 
That round them in the sun lay sighing, 
Had been by magic all set flying. 356 



Everything young, everything fair 
From East and West is blushing there, 
Except — except — oh, Nourmahal! 
Thou loveliest, dearest of them all. 
The one whose smile shone out alone, 
Amidst a world the only one; 
Whose light, among so many lights, 
Was like that star on starry nights, 
The seaman singles from the sky, 
To steer his bark forever by! 
Thou wert not there — so Selim thought. 

And everything seem'd drear without thee; 
But ah! thou wert, thou wert, — and brought 

Thy charm of song all fresh about thee. 
Mingling unnoticed with a band 
Of lutanists from many a land. 
And veil'd by such a mask as shades 



LALLA ROOKH. 243 

The features of young Arab maids, 357 — 
A mask that leaves but one eye free, 
To do its best in witchery, — 
She rov'd, with beating heart, around, 

And waited, trembling, for the minute, 
When she might try if still the sound 

Of her lov'd lute had magic in it. 

The board was spread with fruits and wine; 
With grapes of gold, like those that shine 
On Casbin's hills; 358 — pomegranates full 

Of melting sweetness, and the pears, 
And sunniest apples 359 that Caubul 

In all its thousand gardens 36o bears ; — 
Plantains, the golden and the green, 
Malaya's nectar'dmangusteen! 36^ 
Prunes of Bokara, and sweet nuts 

From the far groves of Samarcand, 
And Basra dates and apricots. 

Seed of the Sun, 362 from Iran's land; — 
With rich conserve of Visna cherries,363 
Of orange flowers, and of those berries 
That, wild and fresh, the young gazelles 
Feed on in Erac's rocky dells. 364 
All these in richest vases smile, 

In baskets of pure sandal-wood, 
And urns of porcelain from that isle 365 

Sunk underneath the Indian flood, 
Whence oft the lucky diver brings 
Vases to grace the halls of kings. 
Wines, too, of every clime and hue. 
Around their liquid lustre threw; 
Amber, Rosolli,366 — the bright dew 
From vineyards of the Green-Sea gushing; 367 



244 LALLA ROOKH. 

And Shiraz wine, that richly ran 

As if that jewel, large and rare, 
The ruby for which Kublai-Khan 
Offer'd a city's wealth, 368 -^.^s blushing 
Melted within the goblets there ! 

And amply Selim quaffs of each 

And seems resolv'd the flood shall reach 

His inward heart, — shedding around 

A genial deluge, as they run, 
That soon shall leave no spot undrown'd, 

For Love to rest his wings upon. 
He little knew how well the boy 

Can float upon a goblet's streams. 
Lighting them with his smile of joy ; — 

As bards have seen him in their dreams, 
Down the blue Ganges laughing glide 

Upon the rosy lotus wreath, 36^ 
Catching new lustre from the tide 

That with his image shone beneath. 

But what are cups, without the aid 

Of song to speed them as they flow? 
And see — a lovely Georgian maid, 

With all the bloom, the freshen 'd glow 
Of her own country maiden's looks, 
When warm they rise from Teflis' brooks ;37o 
And with an eye, whose restless ray, 

Full, floating, dark — oh, he, who knows 
His heart is weak, of Heaven should pray 

To guard him from such eyes as those ' 
With a voluptuous wildness flings 
Her snowy hand across the strings 
Of a syrinda,37i and thus sings: — 



LALLA ROOKH. 245 

Come hither, come hither — by night and by- 
day, 
We linger in pleasures that never are gone; 
Like the waves of the summer, as one dies 
away. 
Another as sweet and as shining comes on. 
And the love that is o'er, in expiring, gives 
birth 
To a new one as warm, as unequal'd in bliss; 
And, oh ! if there be an Elysium on earth, 
It is this, it is this. 372 

Here maidens are sighing, and fragrant their 

sigh 
As the flower of the Amra just op'd by a bee ;373 
And precious their tears as that rain from the 
sky. 374 
Which turns into pearls as it falls in the sea. 
Oh ! think what the kiss and the smile must be 
worth 
When the sigh and the tear are so perfect in 
bliss, 
And own if there be an Elysium on earth, 
It is this, it is this. 

Here sparkles the nectar, that, hallow'd by 
love. 
Could draw down those angels of old from 
their sphere, 
Who for wine of this earth 375 left the fountains 
above, 
And forgot heaven's stars for the eyes we 
have here. 
And, bless'd with odor our goblet gives forth, 



246 LALLA ROOKH. 

What Spirit the sweets of his Eden would 
miss? 
For, oh ! if there be an Elysium on earth, 
It is this, it is this. 

The Georgian's song was scarcely mute, 

When the same measure, sound for sound, 
Was caught up by another lute, 

And so divinely breathed around. 
That all stood hush'd and wondering. 

And turn'd and look'd into the air, 
As if they thought to see the wing 

Of Israfil,376 the Angel, there; 
So powerfully on every soul 
That new, enchanted measure stole. 
While now a voice, sweet as the note 
Of the charm'd lute, was heard to float 
Along its chords, and so entwine 

Its sounds with theirs, that none knew 
whether 
The voice or lute was most divine, 

^o wondrously they went together : — 



There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel 
has told. 
When two, that are link'd in one heavenly 
tie, 
With heart never changing, and brow never 
cold, 
Love on through all ills, and love on till they 
die! 
One hour of a passion so sacred is worth 

Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss, 



LALLA ROOKH. 247 

And, oh if there be an Elysium on earth, 
It is this, it is this. 



'Twas not the air, 'twas not the words, 
But that deep magic in the chords 
And in the lips, that gave such power 
As Music knew not till that hour. 
At once a hundred voices said, 
"It is the mask'd Arabian maid!" 
While Selim, who had felt the strain 
Deepest of any, and had lain 
Some minutes rapt, as in a trance, 

After the fairy sounds were o'er, 
Too inly touch'd for utterance. 

Now motion'd with his hand for more:- 

Fly to the desert, fly with me, 
Our Arab tents are rude for thee ; 
But, oh! the choice what heart can doubt. 
Of tents with love, or thrones without? 

Our rocks are rough, but smiling there 
The acacia waves her yellow hair, 
Lonely and sweet, nor lov'd the less 
For flowering in a wilderness. 

Our sands are bare, but down their slope 
The silvery-footed antelope 
As gracefully and gayly springs 
As o'er the marble courts of kings. 

Then come — thy Arab maid will be 
The lov'd and lone acacia-tree. 
The antelope, whose feet shall bless 
With their light sound thy loneliness. 



248 LALLA ROOKH. 

Oh ! there are looks and tones that dart 
An instant sunshine through the heart, — 
As if the soul that minute caught 
Some treasure it through life had sought ; 

As if the very lips and eyes, 
Predestin'd to have all our sighs. 
And never be forgot again. 
Sparkled and spoke before us then ! 

So came thy every glance and tone, 
When first on me they breathed and shone; 
Now, as if brought from other spheres, 
Yet welcome as if loved for years. 

Then fly with me, — if thou hast known 
No other flame, nor falsely thrown 
A gem away, that thou hadst sworn 
Should ever in thy heart be worn. 

Come, if the love thou hast for me 
Is pure and fresh as mine for thee, — 
Fresh as the fountain under ground, 
When first 'tis by the lapwing found. 377 

But if for me thou dost forsake 
Some other maid, and rudely break 
Her worshipp'd image from its base. 
To give to me the ruin'd place; — 

Then, fare thee well — I'd rather make 
My bower upon some icy lake 



LALLA ROOKH. 249 



When thawing suns begin to shine, 
Than trust to love so false as thine! 



There was a pathos in this lay, 

That, e'en without enchantment's art, 
Would instantly have found its way 

Deep into Selim's burning heart; 
But, breathing, as it did, a tone 
To earthly lutes and lips unknown. 
With every chord fresh from the touch 
Of Music's Spirit, — 'twas too much! 
Starting, he dash'd away the cup, — 

Which, all the time of this sweet air 
His hand had held, untasted, up. 

As if 'twere fix'd by magic there, — 
And naming her, so long unnam'd, 
So long unseen, wildly exclaim'd, 
"O Nourmahal! O Nourmahal! 

Hadst thou but sung this witching strain, 
I could forget — forgive thee all, 

And never leave those eyes again. ' ' 
The mask is off — the charm is wrought — 
And Selim to his heart has caught. 
In blushes, more than ever bright, 
His Nourmahal, his Haram's Light! 
And well do vanish'd frowns enhance 
The charm of every brighten'd glance; 
And dearer seems each dawning smile 
For having lost its light awhile : 
And, happier now for all her sighs. 

As on his arm her head reposes, 
She whispers him with laughing eyes, 

''Remember, love, the Feast of Roses!" 



250 LALLA ROOKH. 

Fadladeen, at the conclusion of this light 
rhapsody, took occasion to sum up his opinion 
of the young Cashmerian's poetry, — of which, 
he trusted, they had that evening heard the 
last. Having recapitulated the epithets "friv- 
olous" — "inharmonious" — "nonsensical," he 
proceeded to say that, viewing it in the most 
favorable light, it resembled one of those Mal- 
divian boats to which the Princess had alluded 
in the relation of her dream, 378 — a slight, 
gilded thing, sent adrift without rudder or 
ballast, and with nothing but vapid sweets and 
faded flowers on board. The profusion, indeed, 
of flowers and birds which this poet had ready 
on all occasions, — not to mention dews, gems, 
etc., was a most oppressive kind of opulence 
to his hearers; and had the unlucky effect of 
giving to his style all the glitter of the flower- 
garden without its method, and all the flutter of 
the aviary without its song. In addition to this, 
he chose his subjects badly, and was always 
most inspired by the worst parts of them. 
The charms of paganism, the merits of rebel- 
lion, these were the themes honored with his 
particular enthusiasm; and, in the poem just 
recited, one of his most palatable passages was 
in praise of that beverage of the Unfaithful, 
wine; — "being perhaps, " said he, relaxing into 
a smile, as conscious of his own character in 
the Haram in this point, "one of those bards 
whose fancy owes all its illumination to the 
grape, like that painted porcelain,379 so curious 
and so rare, whose images are only visible 
when liquor is poured into it." Upon the 



LALLA ROOKH. 251 

whole it was his opinion, from the specimens 
which they had heard, and which, he begged 
to say, were the most tiresome part of the 
journey, that — whatever other merits this well- 
dressed young gentleman might possess — 
poetry was by no means his proper avocation : 
*'and, indeed," continued the critic, "from his 
fondness for flov/ers and for birds, I would ven- 
ture to suggest that a florist or a bird-catcher is 
a much more suitable calling for him than a 
poet." 

They had now begun to ascend those barren 
mountains which separate Cashmere from the 
rest of India; and as the heats were intol- 
erable, and the time of their encampment 
limited to the few hours necessary for refresh- 
ment and repose, there was an end to all their 
delightful evenings, and Lalla Rookh saw no 
more of Feramorz. She now felt that her short 
dream of happiness was over, and that she had 
nothing but the recollection of its few blissful 
hours, like the one draught of sweet water 
that serves the camel across the wilderness, 
to be her heart's refreshment during the dreary 
waste of life that was before her. The blight 
that had fallen upon her spirits soon found its 
way to her cheek, and her ladies saw with 
regret — though not without some suspicion of 
the cause — that the beauty of their mistress, of 
which they were almost as proud of as their 
own, was fast vanishing away at the very 
moment of all than she had most need of it. 
What must the King of Bucharia feel, when, 
instead of the lively and beautiful Lalla Rookh, 



252 LALLA ROOKH. 

whom the poets of Delhi had described as more 
perfect than the divinest images in the house 
of Azor,38o i^e should receive a pale and inani- 
mate victim, upon whose cheek neither health ' 
nor pleasure bloomed, and from whose eyes 
Love had fled, — to hide himself in her heart? 

If anything could have charmed away the 
melancholy of her spirits, it would have been 
the fresh airs and enchanting scenery of that 
Valley which the Persians so justly called the 
Unequalled. 381 But neither the coolness of its 
atmosphere, so luxurious after toiling up those 
bare and burning mountains, — neither the 
splendor of the minarets and pagodas that 
shone out from the depth of its woods, nor the 
grottoes, hermitages, and miraculous foun- 
tains382 -which make every spot of that region 
holy ground, — neither the countless waterfalls 
that rush into the Valley, from all those high 
and romantic mountains that encircle it, nor 
the fair city on the Lake, whose houses, roofed 
with flowers, 383 appeared at a distance like one 
vast and variegated parterre; — not all these 
wonders and glories of the most lovely country 
under the sun could steel her heart for a min- 
ute from those sad thoughts, which but dark- 
ened and grew bitterer every step she advanced. 

The gay pomps and processions that met her 
upon her entrance into the Valley, and the 
magnificence with which the roads all along 
were decorated, did honor to the taste and gal- 
lantry of the young King. It was night when 
they approached the city, and, for the last two 
miles, they had passed under arches, thrown 



LALLA ROOKH, 253 

from hedge to hedge, festooned with only those 
rarest roses from which the Attar Gul, more 
precious than gold, is distilled, and illumi- 
nated in rich and fanciful forms with lanterns 
of the triple-colored tortoise-shell of Pegu.3>^4 
Sometimes, from a dark wood by the side of 
the road, a display of fireworks would break 
out, so sudden and so brilliant, that a Brahmin 
might fancy he beheld that grove in whose 
purple shades the God of Battles was born, 
bursting into a flame at the moment of his 
birth ; — while, at other times, a quick and play- 
ful irradiation continued to brighten all the 
fields and gardens by which they passed, form- 
ing a line of dancing lights along the horizon ; 
like the meteors 385 of the north, as they are seen 
by those hunters who pursue the white and 
blue foxes on the confines of the Icy Sea. 

These arches and fireworks delighted the 
Ladies of the Princess exceedingly ; and with 
their usual good logic, they deduced from his 
taste for illuminations, that the King of Bu- 
charia would make the most exemplary husband 
imaginable. Nor, indeed, could Lalla Rookh 
herself help feeling the kindness and splendor 
with which the young bridegroom welcomed 
her; but she also felt how painful is the grati- 
tude which kindness from those we cannot love 
excites; and that their best blandishments 
come over the heart with all that chilling and 
deadly sweetness which we can fancy in the 
cold, odoriferous wind 386 ^hat is to blow over 
this earth in the last days. 

The marriage was fixed for the morning 



M LALLA ROOKH. 

after her arrival, when she was, for the first 
time, to be presented to the monarch in that 
Imperial Palace beyond the lake called the 
Shalimar. Though never before had a night 
of more wakeful and anxious thought been 
passed in the Happy Valley, yet, when she rose 
in the morning, and her Ladies came around 
her, to assist in the adjustment of the bridal 
ornaments they thought they had never seen 
her look half so beautiful. What she had lost 
of the bloom and radiancy of her charms was 
more than made up by that intellectual ex- 
pression, that soul beaming forth from the 
eyes, which is worth all the rest of loveliness. 
When they had tinged her fingers with the 
Henna leaf, and placed upon her brow a small 
coronet of jewels, of the shape worn by the 
ancient Queens of Bucharia, they flung over 
her head the rose-colored bridal veil, and she 
proceeded to the barge that was to convey her 
across the Lake ; — first kissing, with a mourn- 
ful look, the little amulet of cornelian which 
her father at parting had hung about her neck. 
The morning was as fresh and fair as the 
maid on whose nuptials it rose, and the shin- 
ing Lake, all covered with boats, the minstrels 
playing upon the shores of the islands, and the 
crowded summer-houses on the green hills 
around, with shawls and banners waving from 
their roofs, presented such a picture of ani- 
mated rejoicing, as only she, who was the ob- 
ject of it all, did not feel with transport. To 
Lalla Rookh alone it was a melancholy pa- 
geant ; nor could she have even borne to look 



LALLA ROOKH. 255 

■upon the scene, were it not for a hope that, 
among the crowds around, she might once 
more perhaps catch a gUmpse Of Feramorz. 
So mnch was her imagination haunted by this 
thought, that there was scarcely an islet or boat 
she passed on the way at which her heart did 
not flutter with the momentary fancy that he 
w^as there. Happy, in her eyes the humblest 
slave upon whom the light of his dear looks 
fell! — in the barge immediately after the Prin- 
cess sat Fadladeen, with his silken curtains 
thrown widely apart, that all might have the 
benefit of his august presence, and v/ith his 
head full of the speech he was to deliver to the 
King, "concerning Feramorz, and literature, 
and the Chabuk, as connected therewith." 

They now had entered the canal which leads 
from the Lake to the splendid domes and 
saloons of the Shalimar, and went gliding on 
through the gardens that ascended from each 
bank, full of flowering shrubs that made the 
air all perfume ; while from the middle of the 
canal rose jets of water, smooth and unbroken, 
to such a dazzling height, that they stood like 
tall pillars of diamond in the sunshine. After 
sailing under the arches of various saloons, 
they at length arrived at the last and most 
magnificent, where the monarch awaited the 
coming of his bride; and such was the agita- 
tion of her heart and frame that it was with 
difficulty she could walk up the marble steps, 
which were covered with cloth of gold for the 
ascent from the barge. At the end of the hall 
stood two thrones, as precious as the Cerulean 



256 LALLA ROOKH. 

Throne of Coolbtirga,3S7 on one of which sat 
Aliris, the youthful King of Bucharia, and on 
the other was, in a few minutes, to be placed the 
most beautiful Princess in the world. Imme- 
diately upon the entrance of Lalla Rookh into 
the saloon, the monarch descended from his 
throne to meet her; but scarcely had he time 
to take her hand in his, when she screamed 
with surprise, and fainted at his feet. It was 
Feramorz himself that stood before her ! Fer- 
amorz was, himself, the Sovereign of Bucharia, 
who in this disguise had accompanied his 
young bride from Delhi, and, having won her 
love as an humble minstrel, now amply de- 
served to enjoy it as a King. 

The consternation of Fadladeen at this dis- 
covery was, for the moment, almost pitiable. 
But change of opinion is a resource too con- 
venient in courts for this experienced courtier 
not to have learned to avail himself of it. His 
criticisms were all, of course, recanted in- 
stantly ; he was seized with an admiration of 
the King's verses, as unbounded as, he beg- 
ged him to believe, it was disinterested ; and 
the following week saw him in possession of 
an additional place, swearing by all the Saints 
of Islam that never had there existed so great 
a poet as the Monarch Aliris, and, moreover, 
ready to prescribe his favorite regimen of the 
Chabuk for every man, woman, and child that 
dared to think otherwise. 

Of the happiness of the King and Queen of 
Bucharia, after such a beginning, there can be 
but little doubt ; and, among the lesser symp- 



LALLA ROOKH. 257 

toms, it is recorded of Lalla Rookh, that, to 
the day of her death, in memory of their de- 
lightful journey, she never called the King by 
any other name than Feramorz. 



17 



NOTES. 



Note I, p. 23. — He embarked for Arabia. — These par- 
ticulars of the visit of the King of Bucharia to Aurung- 
zebe are found in Dow's "History of Hindostan," voL 
iii. p. 392. 

Note 2, p. 23. — Lalla Rookh. — Tulip cheek. 

Note 3, p. 23. — Leila. — The mistress of Mejnoun, upon 
whose story so many romances in all the languages of 
the East are founded. 

Note 4, p. 23. — Shirine. — For the loves of this cele- 
brated beauty with Khosrou and with Ferhad, see 
D'Herbelot, Gibbon, "Oriental Collections," etc. 

Note 5, p. 23. — Dewilde. — "The history of the loves of 
Dewild6 and Chizer, the son of the Emperor Alia, is 
written in an elegant poem, by the noble Chusero." — 
Ferishta. 

Note 6, p. 24. — Scattering of the Roses. — Gul Reazee. 

Note 7, p. 24. — Emperor's favor. — "One mark of honor 
or knighthood bestowed by the Emperor is the permis- 
sion to wear a small kettledrum at the bows of their sad- 
dles, which at first was invented for the training of 
hawks, and to call them to the lure, and is worn in the 
field by all sportsmen to that end."— Fryer's Travels. 

"Those on whom the King has conferred the privilege 
must wear an ornament of jewels on the right side of 
the turban, surmounted by a high plume of ttie feathers 
of a kind of egret. This bird is found only in Cash- 
mere, and the feathers are carefully collected for the 
King, who bestows them on his nobles." — Elphinstone's 
Account of Caubul. 

259 



260 NOTES. 



Note 8, p. 25. — Keder Khan. — "Khedar Khan, the 
Khakan, or King of Turquestan beyond the Gihon (at 
the end of the eleventh century), whenever he appeared 
abroad, was preceded by seven hundred horsemen with 
silver battle-axes, and was followed by an equal number 
bearing maces of gold. He was a great patron of 
poetry, and it was he who used to preside at public ex- 
ercises of genius, with four basins of gold and silver by 
him to distribute among the poets who excelled." — 
Richardson's Dissertation prefixed to his Dictionary. 

Note 9, p. 25. — Gilt pine-apples. — "The kubdeh, a 
large golden knob, generally in the shape of a pine- 
apple, on the top of the canopy over the litter or palan- 
quin," — Scott's Notes on the Bahardanush. 

Note 10, p. 25. — Sumptuous litter. — In the Poem of 
Zohair, in the Moallakat, there is the following lively 
description of ' 'a company of maidens seated on camels. ' ' 

"They are mounted in carriages covered with costly 
awnings, and with rose-colored veils, the linings of 
which have the hue of crimson Andem-wood. 

"When they ascend from the bosom of the vale, they 
sit forward on the saddle-cloth, with every mark of a 
voluptuous gayety. 

"Now, when they have reached the brink of yon blue- 
gushing rivulet, they fix the poles of their tents like the 
Arab with a settled mansion." 

Note II, p. 25. — Argus pheasant's wing. — See Ber- 
nier's description of the attendants on Raucha-nara- 
Begum, in her progress to Cashmere. 

Note 12, p. 26. — Munificent protector. — This hypocrit- 
ical Emperor would have made a worthy associate of 
certain Holy Leagues. — "He held the cloak of relig- 
ion," says Dow, "between his actions and the vulgar; 
and impiously thanked the Divinity for a success which 
he owed to his own wickedness. When he was murder- 
ing and persecuting his brothers and their families, he 
was building a magnificent mosque at Delhi, as an 
offering to God for his assistance to him in the civil 
wars. He acted as high priest at the consecration of 
this temple ; and made a practice of attending divine 
service there, in the humble dress of a Fakeer. But 
when he lifted one hand to the Divinity, he, with the 



NOTES. 261 

other, signed warrants for the assassination of his rela- 
tions." — History of Hindostan, vol. iii. p. 335. See also 
the curious letter of Aurungzebe, given in the Oriental 
Collections, vol. i. p. 320. 

Note 13, p. 26. — The Idol of Jaghernaut. — "The idol 
at Jaghernaut has two fine diamonds for eyes. No gold- 
smith is suffered to enter the Pagoda, one having stolen 
one of these eyes, being locked up all night with the 
Idol. " — Tavernier. 

Note 14, p. 26. — Royal Gardens of Delhi. — See a de- 
scription of these Royal Gardens in "An Account of the 
Present State of Delhi," by Lieut. W. Franklin; Asiat. 
Research, vol. iv. p. 417. 

Note 15. p. 26. — Lake of Pearl. — "In the neighborhood 
is Notte Gill, or the Lake of Pearl, which receives this 
name from its pellucid water." — Pennant's Hindostan. 

"Nasir Jung encamped in the vicinity of the Lake of 
Tonoor, amused himself with sailing on that clear and 
beautiful water, and gave it the fanciful name of Motee 
Talah, 'the Lake of Pearls,' which it still retains." — 
Wilke's South of India. 

Note 16, p. 26. — Isles of the West. — Sir Thomas Roe, 
Ambassador from James I. to Jehan-Guire. 

Note 17, p. 27. — Ezra. — "The romance Wemakweazra, 
written in Persian verse, which contains the loves of 
Wamak and Ezra, two celebrated lovers who lived be- 
fore the time of Mahomet." — Note on the Oriental 
Tales. 

Note 18, p. 27.— Rcdahver. — Their amour is recounted 
in the Shah-Nameh of Ferdousi; and there is much 
beauty in the passage which describes the slaves of 
Rodahver sitting on the bank of the river, and throwing 
flowers into the stream, in order to draw the attention 
of the young Hero who is encamped on the opposite 
side. (See Champion's translation.) 

Note 19, p. 27.— White Demon.— Rustam is the Her- 
cules of the Persians. For the particulars of his victory 
over the Sepeed Deeve, or White Demon, see "Oriental 
Collections," vol. ii. p. 45.~"Near the city of Shirauz 
is an immense quadrangular monument, in commemora- 



262 NOTES. 

tion of this combat, called the Kelaat-i-Deev Sepeed, or 
castle of the White Giant, which Father Angelo, in his 
"Gazophilacium Persicum," p. 127, declares to have 
been the most memorable monument of antiquity which 
he had seen in Persia. " (See Ouseley's "Persian Mis- 
cellanies.") 

Note 20, p. 27. — Golden anklets. — "The women of the 
Idol, or dancing girls of the Pagoda, have little golden 
bells fastened to their feet, the soft harmonious tinkling 
of which vibrates in unison with the exquisite melody 
of their voices." — Maurice's Indian Antiquities. 

"The Arabian courtesans, like the Indian women, 
have little golden bells fastened round their legs, neck, 
and elbows, to the sound of which they dance before the 
King. The Arabian princesses wear golden rings on 
their fingers, to which little bells are suspended, as well 
as in the flowing tresses of their hair, that their superior 
rank may' be known, and they themselves receive in 
passing the homage due to them." (See Calmet's 
"Dictionary," art. Bells.) 

Note 21, p. 27.— Delicious opium — "Abou-Tige, ville 
de la Shebaide, ou il croit beaucoup de pavot noir, 
dont se fait le meilleur opinion." — D'Herbelot. 

Note 22, p. 28. — Crishna. — The Indian Apollo. — "He 
and the three Ramas are described as youths of perfect 
beauty; and the princesses of Hindustan were all pas- 
sionately in love with Crishna, who continues to this 
hour the darling God of the Indian women." — Sir W. 
Jones, on the Gods of Greece, Italy, and India. 

Note 23, p. 2S. — Shawl-goats of Tibet. — See Turner's 
"Embassy" for a description of this animal, "the most 
beautiful among the whole tribe of goats." The mate- 
rial for the shawls (which is carried to Cashmere) is 
found next the skin. 

Note 24, p. 29. — Veiled Prophet of Khorassan. — For 
the real history of this Impostor, whose original name 
was Hakem ben Haschem, and who was called Mokanna 
from the veil of silver gauze (or, as others say, golden) 
which he always wore, see D'Herbelot. 



NOTES. 263 

Note 25, p. 30. — Khorassan, — Khorassan signifies, in 
the old Persian language, Province or Region of the 
Sun. — Sir W. Jones. 

Note 26, p. 30. — Flow'rets and fruits blush over every 
stream. 

"The fruits of Meru are finer than those of any other 
place ; and one cannot see in any other city such palaces 
with groves, and streams, and gardens." — Ebu Haukal's 
Geography. 

Note 27, p. 30. — Among Merou's bright palaces and 
groves. 

One of the royal cities of Khorassan. 

Note 28, p. 30. — Moussa's. — Moses. 

Note 29, p. 30. — O'er Moussa's cheek when down the 
Mount he trod. 

"Ses disciples assuroient qu'il se couvroit le visage, 
pour ne pas eblouir ceux qui I'approchoient par I'eclat 
de son visage comme Moyse." — D'Herbelot. 

Note 30, p. 31. — In hatred to the Caliph's hue of 
night. 

Black was the color adopted by the Caliphs of the 
House of Abbas, in their garments, turbans, and stand- 
ards. — 'Tl faut remarquer ici touchant les habits blancs 
des disciples de Hakem, que la couleur des habits, des 
coiffures et des etendards des Khalifes Abassides etant 
la noire, ce chef de Rebelles ne pouvoit pas choisir une 
qui lui fut plus opposee."— D'Herbelot. 

Note 31, p. 31. — With javelins of the light Kathaian 
reed. 

"Our dark javelins, exquisitely wrought of Khathaian 
reeds, slender and delicate." — Poem of Amru. 

Note 32, p. 31. — Fill'd with the stems. 

Pichula, used anciently for arrows by the Persians. 

Note 33, p. 31. — That bloom on Iran's rivers. 

The Persians call this plant Gaz. The celebrated 
shaft of Isfendiar, one of their ancient heroes, was 
made of it. — "Nothing can be more beautiful than the 
appearance of this plant in flower during the rains on 
the banks of rivers, where it is usually interwoven with 



264 NOTES. 

a lovely twining asclepias." — Sir W. Jones, Botanical 
Observations on Select Indian Plants. 

Note 34, p. 31. — Like a chenar-tree grove, when Win- 
ter throws. 

The Oriental plane, "The chenar is a delightful tree: 
its bole is of a fine white and smooth bark; and its foli- 
age, which grows in a tuft at the summit, is of a bright 
green." — Morier's Travels. 

Note 35, p. 32. — From those who kneel at Brahma's 
burning founts. 

The burning fountains of Brahma near Chittagong, 
esteemed as holy. — Turner. 

Note 36, p. 32. — To the small, half-shut glances of 
Kathay. — China. 

Note 37, p. 32. — Like tulip beds of different shape and 
dyes. 

"The name of tulip is said to be of Turkish extrac- 
tion, and given to the flower on account of its resemb- 
ling a turban." — Beckmann's History of Inventions. 

Note 38, p. 33. — And fur-bound bonnet of Bucharian 
shape. 

"The inhabitants of Bucharia wear a round cloth bon- 
net, shaped much after the Polish fashion, having a 
large fur border. They tie their kaftans about the mid- 
dle with a girdle of a kind of silk crape, several times 
round the body." — Account of Independent Tartary, in 
Pinkerton's Collection. 

Note 39, p. 33. — O'erwhelm'd in fight and captive to 
the Greek. 

In the war of the Caliph Mahadi against the Empress 
Irene, for an account of which vide Gibbon, vol. x. 

Note 40, p. 35. — The flying throne of star- taught Soli- 
man. 

This wonderful throne was called The Star of the 
Genii. For a full description of it, see the Fragment, 
translated by Captain Franklin, from a Persian MS. en- 
titled, "The History of Jerusalem," Oriental Collec- 
tions, vol. i. p. 235. — When Soliman traveled, the East- 
ern writers say, "He had a carpet of green silk on which 
his throne was placed, being of a prodigious length and 



NOTES. 265 

breadth, and sufficient for all his forces to stand upon, 
the men placing themselves on his right hand, and the 
spirits on his left; and that when all were in order, the 
wmd, at his command, took up the carpet, and trans- 
ported it, with all that were upon it, wherever he 
pleased; the army of birds at the same time flying' over 
their heads, and forming a kind of canopy to shade them 
from the sun." — Sale's Koran, vol. ii. p. 214, note. 

Note 41, p. 35. — For many an age, in every chance and 
change. 

The transmigration of souls was one of his doctrines. 
(Vide D'Herbelot) 

Note 42, p. 35.— To which all Heaven, except the 
Proud One, knelt. 

"And when we said unto the angels, Worship Adam, 
they all worshiped except Eblis (Lucifer), who refused." 
— The Koran, chap. ii. 

Note 43, p. 36. — In Moussa's frame, — and, thence de- 
scending, flow'd. — Moses. 

Note 44, p. 36.— Through many a Prophet's breast. 

This is according to D'Herbelot's account of the doc- 
trines of Mokanna: — "Sa doctrine etoit, que Dieu avoit 
pris une forme et figure humaine, depuis qu'il eut com- 
mande aux Anges d'adorer Adam, le premier des hom- 
mes. Qu'apres la mort d'Adam, Dieu etoit apparu sous 
la figure de plusieurs Prophetes, et autres grands hom- 
mes qu'il avoit choisis, jusqu'a ce qu'il prit celle d'Abu 
Moslem, Prince de Khorassan, lequel professoit I'erreur 
de la Tenassukhiah ou Metempsychose ; et qu'apres la 
mort de ce Prince, la Divinite etoit passee et descendue 
en sa personne." 

Note 45, p. 34. — In Issa shone. — Jesus. 

Note 46, p. 39. — Born by that ancient flood, which 
from its spring. 

The Amoo, which rises in the Belur Tag, or Dark 
Mountains, and, running nearly from east to west, splits 
into two branches ; one of which falls into the Caspian 
Sea, and the other into Aral Nahr, or the Lake of Eagles. 

Note 47, p. 41. — The bulbul utters, ere her soul de- 
part. — The nightingale. 



266 NOTES. 

Note 48, p. 49. — In holy Koom, or Mecca's dim 
arcades. 

The Cities of Com (or Koom) and Cashan are full of 
mosques, mausoleums and sepulchres, of the descend- 
ants of Ali, the Saints of Persia. — Chardin. 

Note 49, p. 49. — Stood vases, fill'd with Kishmee's gol- 
den wine. 

An island in the Persian Gulf, celebrated for its white 
wine. 

Note 50, p. 49. — Like Zemzem's Spring of Holiness, 
had power. 

The miraculous well at Mecca; so called, says Sale, 
from the murmuring of its waters. 

Note 51, p. 50. — Whom India serves, the monkey deity. 

The God Hannaman. — "Apes are in many parts of 
India highly venerated, out of respect to the God Han- 
naman, a deity partaking of the form of that race." — 
Pennant's Hindostan. 

See a curious account, in Stephen's Persia, of a sol- 
emn embassy from some part of the Indies to Goa, 
when the Portuguese were there, offering vast treasures 
for the recovery of a monkey's tooth, which they held 
in great veneration, and which had been taken away 
upon the conquest of the kingdom of Jafanapatan. 

Note 52, p. 50. — To bend in worship, Lucifer was 
right. 

The resolution of Eblis not to acknowledge the new 
creature, man, was, according to Mahometan tradition, 
thus adopted: — "The earth (which God had selected for 
the materials of His work) was carried into Arabia to a 
place between Mecca and Tayef, where, bemg first 
kneaded by the angels, it was afterwards fashioned by 
God Himself into a human form, and left to dry for 
the space of forty days, or, as others say, as many 
years: the angels, in the meantime, often visiting it, 
and Eblis (then one of the angels nearest to God's pres- 
ence, afterwards the devil) among the rest; but he, not 
contented with looking at it, kicked it with his foot till 
it rung; and knowing God designed that creature to be 
his superior, took a secret resolution never to acknowl- 
edge him as such." — Sale on the Koran. 



NOTES. 267 

Note 53, p. 50. — From dead men's marrow guides 
them best at night. 

A kind of lantern formerly used by robbers, called 
the Hand of Glory, the candle for which was made of 
the fat of a dead malefactor. This, however, was rather 
a Western than an Eastern superstition. 

Note 54, p. 51. — In that best marble of which Gods 
are made. 

The material of which images of Gaudma (the Birman 
Deity) are made, is held sacred. "Birmans may not 
purchase the marble in mass, but are suffered, and, 
indeed, encouraged, to buy figures of the Deity ready 
made." — Symes's Ava, vol. ii. p. 376. 

Note 55, p. 55. — Of Kerzrah flowers, came fill'd with 
pestilence. 

'Tt is commonly said in Persia that if a man breathe 
in the hot south wind, which in June or July passes over 
that flower (the Kerzereh), it will kill him." — Thevenot. 

Note 56, p. 58. — Within the crocodile's stretch'd jaws 
to come. 

The humming-bird is said to run this risk for the pur- 
pose of picking the crocodile's teeth. The same circum- 
stance is related of the lapwing, as a fact to which he 
was witness, by Paul Lucas, Voyage fait en 1714. 

The ancient story concerning the Trochilus, or hum- 
ming-bird, entering with impunity into the mouth of 
the crocodile, is firmly believed at Java. — Barrow's 
Cochin China. 

Note 57, p. 60. — That rank and venomous food on 
which she lives. 

"Circum easdem ripas (Nili, viz.) ales est Ibis. Ea 
serpentium populatur ova, gratissimamque ex his escam 
nidis suis refert." — Solinus. 

Note 58, p. 61.— Yamtcheou.— "The Feast of Lanterns 
is celebrated at Yamtcheou with more magnificence than 
anywhere else: and the report goes that the illumina- 
tions there are so splendid that the Emperor once, not 
daring openly to leave his Court to go thither, commit- 
ted himself with the Queen and several Princesses of his 
family into the hands of a magician, who promised to 



268 NOTES. 

transport them thither in a trice. He made them in the 
night to ascend magnificent thrones that were borne up 
by swans, which in a moment arrived at Yamtcheou. 
The Emperor saw at his leisure all the solemnity, being 
carried upon a cloud that hovered over the city and 
descended by degrees ; and came back again with the 
same speed and equipage, nobody at court perceiving 
his absence." — The Present State of China, p. 156. 

Note 59, p. 61. — Sceneries of bamboo- work. — See a 
description of the nuptials of Vizier Alee in the Asiatic 
Annual Register for 1804. 

Note 60, p. 62. — Chinese illuminations. — "The vulgar 
ascribe it to an accident that happened in the family of 
a famous mandarin, whose daughter, walking one even- 
ing upon the shore of a lake, fell in and w^as drowned ; 
the afflicted father, with his family, ran thither, and, 
the better to find her, he caused a great company of lan- 
terns to be lighted. All the inhabitants of the place 
thronged after him with torches. The year ensuing 
they made fires upon the shores the same day ; they con- 
tinued the ceremony every year; every one lighted his 
lantern, and by degrees it grew into a custom." — Pres- 
ent State of China. 

Note 61, p. 63. — Like Seba's Queen could vanquish 
with that one. 

"Thouhastravishedmy heart with one of thine eyes." 
— Sol. Song. 

Note 62, p. 63. — The fingers' ends with a bright ros- 
eate hue. 

"They tinged the ends of their fingers scarlet with 
henna, so that they resembled branches of coral." — 
Story of Prince Futtun in Bahardanush. 

Note 63, p. 63. — To give that long, dark languish to 
the eye. 

"The women blacken the inside of their eyelids with 
a powder named the black kohol." — Russel. 

"None of these ladies." says Shaw, "take themselves 
to be completely dressed, till they have tinged the hair 
and edges of their eyelids with the powder of lead ore. 
Now, as this operation is performed by dipping first into 



NOTES. 269 

the powder a small wooden bodkin of the thickness of a 
quill, and then drawing it afterwards through the eye- 
lids over the ball of the eye, we shall have a lively image 
of what the Prophet (Jer. iv. 30) may be supposed to 
mean by rending the eyes with painting. This practice 
is no doubt of great antiquity ; for besides the instance 
already taken notice of, we find that where Jezebel is 
said (2 Kings ix. 30) to have painted her fair face, the 
original words are, she adjusted her eyes with the pow- 
der of lead ore." — Shaw's Travels. 

Note 64, p. 64. — In her full lap the Champac's leaves 
of gold. 

The appearance of the blossoms of the gold-colored 
Champac on the black hair of the Indian women has 
supplied the Sanscrit poets with many elegant allusions. 
(See Asiatic Researches, vol. iv. ) 

Note 65, p. 64. — The sweet Elcaya, and that courteous 
tree. 

A tree famous for its perfume, and common on the 
hills of Yemen. — Niebuhr. 

Note 66, p. 64. — Which bows to all who seek its can- 
opy. 

Of the genus mimosa, "which droops its branches 
whenever any person approaches it, seeming as if it 
saluted those who retire under its shade." — Ibid. 

Note 67, p. 65. — The bowers of Tibet, send forth odor- 
ous light. 

"Cloves are a principal ingredient in the composition 
of the perfumed rods, which men of rank keep con- 
stantly burning in their presence." — Turner's Tibet. 

Note 68, p. 65. — With odoriferous woods of Comorin. 

"C'est d'ou vient le bois d'aloes que les Arabes appel- 
lent Oud Comari, et celui du sandal, qui s'y trouve en 
grande quantite."— D'Herbelot. 

Note 69, p. 65. — The crimson blossoms of the coral 
tree. 

"Thousands of variegated lories visit the coral trees." 
— Barrow. 

Note 70, p. 65. — Mecca's blue sacred pigeon. 

"In Mecca there are quantities of blue pigeons, which 



270 NOTES. 



none will affright or abuse, much less kill. — Pitt's Ac- 
count of the Mahometans. 

Note 7T, p. 66. — The thrush of Hindostan. 

"The Pagoda Thrush is esteemed among the first 
choristers of India. It sits perched on the sacred pago- 
das, and from thence delivers its melodious song." — 
Pennant's Hindostan. 

Note 72, p. 66. — About the gardens, drunk with that 
sweet food. 

Tavernier adds, that while the birds of Paradise lie in 
this intoxicated state, the emmets come and eat off their 
legs ; and that hence it is they are said to have no feet. 

Note 73, p. 66. — Whose scent hath lur'd them o'er the 
summer flood. 

Birds of Paradise, which, at the nutmeg season, come 
in flights from the southern isles to India; and "the 
strength of the nutmeg," says Tavernier, "so intoxi- 
cates them, that they fail dead drunk to the earth." 

Note 74, p. 66. — Build their high nests of budding cin- 
namon. 

"That bird which liveth in Arabia, and buildeth its 
nest with cinnamon." — Browne's Vulgar Errors. 

Note 75, p. 66. — Sleeping in light, like the green birds 
that dwell. 

"The spirits of the martyrs will be lodged in the crops 
of green birds." — Gibbon, vol. ix. p. 421. 

Note 76, p. 66. — More like the luxuries of that impious 
King. 

Shedad, who made the delicious gardens of Irim, 
in imitation of Paradise, and was destroyed by light- 
ning the first time he attempted to enter them. 

Note 77. p. 68. — In its blue blossoms hum themselves 
to sleep. 

"My Pandits assure me that the plant before us (the 
Nilica) is their Sephalica, thus named because the bees 
are supposed to sleep on its blossoms." — Sir W. Jones. 

Note 78, p. 70. — As they were captives to the King of 
Flowers. 
"They deferred it till the King of Flowers should 



NOTES. 271 

ascend his throne of enameled foliage." — The Bahard- 
anush. 

Note 79, p. 70. — But a light golden chain- work round 
her hair. 

"One of the head-dresses of the Persian women is 
composed of a light golden chain-work, set with small 
pearls, with a thin gold plate pendant, about the big- 
ness of a crown-piece, on which is impressed an Arabian 
prayer, and which hangs upon the cheek below the 
ear." — Hanway's Travels. 

Note 80, p. 70. — Such as the maids of Yezd and Shiras 
wear. 

"Certainly the women of Yezd are the handsomest 
women in Persia. The proverb is, that to live happy a 
man must have a wife of Yezd, eat the bread of Yezd- 
ecas, and drink the wine of Shiraz." — Tavernier, 

Note 81, p. 71. — Upon a musnud's edge. 
Musnuds are cushioned seats, usually reserved for per- 
:sons of distinction. 

Note 82, p. 71. — In the pathetic mode of Isfahan. 

The Persians, like the ancient Greeks, call their musi- 
cal modes or Perdas by the names of different countries 
or cities, as the mode of Isfahan, the mode of Irak, etc. 

Note 83, p. 71. — There's a bower of roses by Bende- 
meers stream. 

A river which flows near the ruins of Chilminar. 

Note 84, p. 73. — The hills of crystal on the Caspian 
shore. 

"To the north of us (on the coast of the Caspian, near 
Badku) was a mountain, which sparkled like diamonds, 
arising from the sea-glass and crystals with which it 
abounds." — Journey of the Russian Ambassador to 
Persia, 1746. 

Note 85, p. 73. — Of Eden, shake in the eternal breeze. 

"To which will be added the sound of bells, hanging 
on the trees, which will be put in motion by the wind 
proceeding from the throne of God, as often as the 
blessed wish for music." — Sale. 



272 NOTES. 

Note 86, p. 74. — And his floating eyes — oh, they re- 
semble. 

' ' Whose wanton eyes resemble blue water-lilies, agi- 
tated by the breeze." — Jayadeva. 

Note 87, p. 74. — Blue- water-lilies. 

The blue lotus, which grows in Cashmere and in 
Persia. 

Note 88, p. 75. — To muse upon the pictures that hung 
round. 

It has been generally supposed that the Mahometans 
prohibit all pictures of anmials; but Toderini shows 
that, though the practice is forbidden by the Koran, they 
are not more averse to painted figures and images than 
other people. From Mr. Murphy's work, too, we find 
that the Arabs of Spain had no objection to the introduc- 
tion of figures into painting. 

Note 89, p. 76. — Whose orb when half-retir'd looks 
loveliest. 

This is not quite astronomically true. "Dr. Hadley 
(says Keil) has shown that Venus is brightest when she 
is about forty degrees removed from the sun; and that 
then but only a fourth part of her lucid disk is to be 
seen from the earth." 

Note go, p. 76. — He read that to be blest is to be wise. 

For the loves of King Solomon (who was supposed to 
preside over the whole race of Genii) with Balkis, the 
Queen of Sheba, or Saba, see D'Herbelot, and the 
Notes on the Koran, chap. ii. 

"In the palace which Solomon ordered to be built 
against the arrival of the Queen of Saba, the floor or 
pavement was of transparent glass, laid over running 
water, in which fish were swimming." This led the 
Queen into a very natural mistake, which the Koran has 
not thought beneath its dignity to commemorate. "It 
was said unto her, 'Enter the palace.' And when she 
saw it she imagined it to be a great water; and she dis- 
covered her legs, by lifting up her robe to pass through 
it. Whereupon Solomon said to her, 'Verily, this is the 
place evenly floored with glass.* " — Chap, xxvii. 



NOTES. 273 

Note 91, p. 76. — Here fond Zuleika woos with open 
arms. 

The wife of Potiphar, thus named by the Orientals. 

"The passion which this frail beauty of antiquity con- 
ceived for her young Hebrew slave has given rise to a 
much esteemed poem in the Persian language, entitled 
Yusef vau Zelikha, by Noureddin Jami ; the manuscript 
copy of which, in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, is 
supposed to be the finest in the whole world." — Note 
upon Nott's Translation of Hafez. 

Note 92, p. 76. — With a new text to consecrate their 
love. 

The particulars of Mahomet's amour with Mary, the 
Coptic girl, in justification of which he added a new 
chapter to the Koran, may be found in Gagnier's Notes 
upon Abulfeda, p. 151. 

Note 93, p. 73. — But in that deep-blue, melancholy 
dress. 

"Deep blue is their mourning color." — Hanwa}^ 

Note 94, p. 79. — Sat in her sorrow like the sweet night- 
flower. 

The sorrowful nyctanthes, which begins to spread its 
rich odor after sunset. 

Note 95, p. 80. — As the viper weaves its wily cover- 
ing. 

"Concerning the vipers, which Pliny says were fre- 
quent among the balsam-trees, I made very particular 
inquiry; several were brought me alive both to Yambo 
and Jidda." — Bruce. 

Note 96, p. 86. — The sunny apples of Istkahar. — "In 
the territory of Istkahar there is a kind of apple, half of 
which is sweet and half sour." — Ebn Haukal. 

Note 97, p. 86. — They saw a young Hindoo girl upon 
the bank. — For an account of this ceremony, see 
Grandpre's Voyage in the Indian Ocean. 

Note 98, p. 87.— The Oton-tala, or Sea of Stars.— 
"The place where the Whangho, a river of Tibet, rises, 
and where there are more than a hundred springs, which 
sparkle like stars; whence it is called Hotun-nor, that 
is, the Sea of Stars."— Pinkerton's Description of Tibet. 
18 



274 NOTES. 

Note 99, p. 88. — Hath sprung up here. 

"The Lescar or Imperial Camp is divided, like a reg- 
ular town, into squares, alleys, and streets, and from a 
rising ground furnishes one of the most agreeable pros- 
pects in the world. Starting up in a few hours in an 
uninhabited plain, it raises the idea of a city built by 
enchantment. Even those who leave their houses in 
cities to follow the prince in his progress are frequently 
so charmed by the Lescar, when situated in a beautiful 
and convenient place, that they cannot prevail with 
themselves to remove. To prevent this inconvenience 
to the court, the Emperor, after sufficient time is allowed 
to the tradesmen to follow, orders them to be burnt out 
of their tents," — Dow's Hindostan. 

Colonel Wilks gives a lively picture of an Eastern 
encampment: "His camp, like that of most Indian 
armies, exhibited a motley collection of covers from the 
scorching sun and dews of the night, variegated accord- 
ing to the taste or means of each individual by extensive 
enclosures of colored calico surrounding superb suites 
of tents; by ragged cloths or blankets stretched over 
sticks or branches ; palm-leaves hastily spread over sim- 
ilar supports ; handsome tents and splendid canopies; 
horses, oxen, elephants, and camels; all intermixed 
without any exterior mark of order or design, except 
the flags of the chiefs, which usually mark the centres of 
a congeries of these masses; the only regular part of the 
encampment being the streets of shops, each of which 
is constructed nearly in the manner of a booth at an 
English fair." — Historical Sketches of the South of 
India. 

Note TOO, p. 88.— Built the high pillar'd halls of Chil- 
minar. 

The edifices of Chilminar and Balbec are supposed to 
have been built by the Genii, acting under the orders of 
Jau ben Jan, who governed the world long before the 
time of Adam. 

Note loi, p. 88.— And camels, tufted o'er with Ye- 
men's shells. 

"A superb camel, ornamented with strings and tufts 
of small shells." — Ali Bey. 



NOTES. 275 

Note 102, p. 88. — But the far torrent, or the locust 
bird. 

A native of Khorassan, and allured southward by 
means of the water of a fountain between Shiraz and 
Ispahan, called the Fountain of Birds, of which it is so 
fond that it will follow wherever that water is carried. 

Note 103, p. 89. — Of laden camels and their drivers' 
songs. 

"Some of the camels have bells about their necks, and 
some about their legs, like those which our carriers put 
about their fore-horses' necks, which, together with the 
servants (who belong to the camels, and travel on foot), 
singing all night, make a pleasant noise, and the jour- 
ney passes away delightfully." — Pitt's Account of the 
Mahometans. 

"The camel-driver follows the camels, singing, and 
sometimes playing upon his pipe; the louder he sings 
and pipes, the faster the camels go. Nay, they will 
stand still when he gives over his music." — Ta vernier. 

Note 104, p. 89. — Of the Abyssinian trumpet, swell 
and float. 

"This trumpet is often called, in Abyssinia, nesser 
can no, which signifies the Note of the Eagle." — Note of 
Bruce's Editor. 

Note 105, p. 89. — The Night and Shadow, over yonder 
tent. 

The two black standards borne before the Caliphs of 
the House of Abbas were called, allegorically, The 
Night and the Shadow. (See Gibbon.) 

Note 106, p. 89. — Defiance fierce at Islam. — The 
Mahometan religion. 

Note 107, p. 89. — But, having sworn upon the Holy 
Grave. 

"The Persians swear by the tomb of Shah Besade, 
who is buried at Casbin ; and when one desires another 
to asseverate a matter, he will ask him if he dare swear 
by the Holy Grave." — Struy. 

Note 108, p. 90. — Were spoil'd to feed the Pilgrim's 
luxury. 



273 NOTES. 

Mahadi, in a single pilgrimage to Mecca, expended six 
millions of dinars of gold. 

Note 109, p. 90. — Of Mecca's sun, with urns of Persian 
snow. 

"Nivem Meccam apportavit, rem ibiaut nunquam aut 
raro visam." — Abulfeda. 

Note no, p. 90. — First, in the van, the People of the 
Rock. 

The inhabitants of Hejaz or Arabia Petraea, called by 
an Eastern writer "the People of the Rock." (See Ebn 
Haukal.) 

Note III, p. 90. — On their light mountain steeds, of 
royal stock. 

"Those horses, called by the Arabians Kochlani, of 
whom a written genealogy has been kept for 2,000 
years. They are said to derive their origin from King 
Solomon's steeds." — Niebuhr. 

Note 1 12, p. 90. — The flashing of their swords' rich 
marquetry. 

"Many of the figures on the blades of their swords are 
wrought in gold or silver, or in marquetry with small 
gems." — Asiat. Misc. v. i. 

Note 113, p. 90. — With dusky legions from the land of 
Myrrh. 

Azab or Saba. 

Note 114, p. 91. — Waving their heron crests with mar- 
tial grace. 

"The chiefs of the Uzbek Tartars wear a plume of 
white heron's feathers in their turbans." — Account of 
Independent Tartary. 

Note 115, p. 91. — Wild warriors of the turquoise hills. 

"In the mountains of Nishapour and Tous (in Khor- 
assan) they find turquoises." — Ebn Haukal. 

Note 116, p. 91. — Of Hindoo Kosh, in stormy freedom 
bred. 

For a description of these stupendous ranges of 
mountains, see Elphinstone's Caubul. 

Note 117, p. 91. — Her Worshippers of Fire. 

The Ghebers or Guebres, those original natives of 
Persia who adhered to their ancient faith, the religion 



NOTES. 277 

of Zoroaster, and who, after the conquest of their 
country by the Arabs, were either persecuted at home, 
or. forced to become wanderers abroad. 

Note ii8, p. 91. — From Yezd's Eternal Mansion of the 
Fire. 

"Yezd, the chief residence of those ancient natives 
who worship the Sun and the Fire, which latter they 
have carefully kept lighted, without being once extin- 
guished for a moment about 3,000 years, on a mountain 
near Yezd, called Ater Quedah, signifying the House or 
Mansion of the Fire. He is reckoned very unfortunate 
who dies off that mountain." — Stephen's Persia. 

Note 119, p. 91. — That burn into the Caspian, fierce 
they came. 

"When the weather is hazy, the springs of naphtha 
(on an island near Baku) boil up the higher, and the 
naphtha often takes fire on the surface of the earth, and 
runs in a flame into the sea to a distance almost incred- 
ible." — Hanway on the Everlasting Fire of Baku. 

Note 120, p. 92. — By which the prostrate Caravan is 
aw'd. 

Savary says of the south wind, which blows in Egypt 
from February to May, "Sometimes it appears only in 
the shape of an impetuous whirlwind, which passes rap- 
idly, and is fatal to the traveler, surprised in the middle 
of the deserts. Torrents of burning sand roll before it, 
the firmament is enveloped in a thick veil, and the sun 
appears of the color of blood. Sometimes whole cara- 
vans are buried in it." 

Note 121, p. 92.— The Champions of the Faith through 
Beder's vale. 

In the great victory gained by Mahomed at Beder, he 
was assisted, say the Mussulmans, by three thousand 
angels, led by Gabriel, mounted on his horse Hiazum. 
(See The Koran and its Commentators.) 

Note 122, p. 94. — "Alia Akbar!" 

The Tecbir, or cry of the Arabs. "Alia Acbar!" says 
Ockley, means "God is most mighty." 

Note 123, p. 94.— And light your shrines and chant 
your ziraleets. 



278 NOTES. 

The ziraleet is a kind of chorus, which the women of 
the East sing upon joyful occasions. — Russel. 

Note 124, p. 95. — Or warm or brighten, — hke that 
Syrian Lake. 

The Dead Sea, which contains neither animal nor 
vegetable life. 

Note 125, p. 96. — O'er his lost throne— then pass'd the 
Jihon's flood. 

The ancient Oxus. 

Note 126, p. 96. — Rais'd the white banner within 
Neksheb's gates. 

A city of Transoxiana. 

Note 127, p. 97. — To-day's young flower is springing 
in its stead. 

"You never can cast your eyes on this tree, but you 
meet there either blossoms or fruit ; and as the blossoms 
drop underneath on the ground (which is frequently 
covered with these purple-colored flowers), others come 
forth in their stead," etc., etc. — Nieuhoff. 

Note 128, p. 97. — With which the Dives have gifted 
him. 

The Demons of the Persian mythology. 

Note 129, p. 97. — That spangle India's fields on show- 
ery nights. 

Carreri mentions the fire-flies in India during the rainy 
seasons. (See his Travels.) 

Note 130, p. 98. — Who brush'd the thousands of the 
Assyrian King. 

Sennacherib, called by the Orientals King of Moussal. 
— D'Herbelot. 

Note 131, p. 99. — Of Parviz. 

Chosroes. For the description of his Throne or Pal- 
ace, see Gibbon and D'Herbelot. 

There were said to be under this Throne or Palace of 
Khosrou Parviz a hundred vaults filled with "treasures 
so immense that some Mahometan writers tell us, their 
Prophet, to encourage his disciples, carried them to a 
rock which, at his command, opened, and gave them a 
prospect through it of the treasures of Khosrou." — Uni- 
versal History. 



NOTES. 279 

Note 132, p. 99. — And the heron crest that shone. 

"The crown of Gerashid is cloudy and tarnished before 
the heron tuft of thy turban." — From one of the elegies 
or songs in praise of Ali, written in characters of gold 
round the gallery of Abbas's tomb. (See Chardin.) 

Note 133, p. 99. — Magnificent, o'er All's beauteous 
eyes. 

The beauty of All's eyes was so remarkable that when- 
ever the Persians would describe anything as very 
lovely, they say it is Ayn Hali, or the Eyes of Ali. — 
Chardin. 

Note 134, p. 99. — Rise from the Holy Well, and cast 
its light. 

We are not told more of this trick of the Impositor 
than that it was "une machine qu'il, disoit etre la Lune." 
According to Richardson, the miracle is perpetuated in 
Nekscheb. — "Nakshab, the name of a city in Transoxi- 
ana, where they say there is a well, in which the 
appearance of the moon is to be seen night and day." 

Note 135, p. 99. — Round the rich city and the plain 
for miles. 

"11 amusa pendant deux le peuple de la ville de 
Nekscheb, en faisant sortir toutes les nuits du fond 
d'un puits un corps lumineux semblable a la Lune, qui 
portoit sa lumiere jusqu'a la distance de plusieurs 
milles. " — D'Herbelot. Hence he was called Sazen- 
dehmah, or the Moon-maker. 

Note 136, p. 100. — Had rested on the Ark. 

The Shechinah, called Sakinat in the Koran. (See 
Sale's Note, chap, ii.) 

Note 137, p. 100. — Of the small drum with which they 
count the night. 

The parts of the night are made known as well by 
instruments of music, as by the rounds of the watchmen 
with cries and small drums. (See Burder's Oriental 
Customs, vol. i. p. 119.) 

Note 138, p. 100. — On for the lamps, that light yon 
lofty screen. 

The Serrapurda, high screens of red cloth, stiffened 
with cane, used to enclose a considerable space round 
the royal tents. — Notes on the Bahardanush. 



280 NOTES. 

The tents of Princes were generally illuminated. 
Norden tells us that the tent of the Bey of Girge was 
distinguished from the other tents by forty lanterns 
being suspended before it. (See Harmer's Observations 
on Job.) 

Note 139, p. 100. — Pour to the spot, like bees of 
Kauzeroon. 

"From the groves of orange-trees at Kauzeroon the 
bees cull a celebrated honey." — Morier's Travels. 

Note 140, p. 102. — Of nuptial pomp, she sinks into his 
tide. 

"A custom still subsisting at this day seems to me to 
prove that the Egyptians formerly sacrificed a young 
virgin to the God of the Nile; for they now make a 
statue of earth in shape of a girl, to which they give the 
name of the Betrothed Bride, and throw it into the 
river." — Savary. 

Note 141, p. 103. — Engines of havoc in, unknown 
before. 

That they knew the secret of the Greek fire among 
the Mussulmans early in the eleventh century, appears 
from Dow's Account of Mamood 1. "When he arrived 
at Moultan, finding that the country of the Jits was 
defended by great rivers, he ordered fifteen hundred 
boats to be built, each of which he armed with six iron 
spikes, projecting from their prows and sides, to pre- 
vent their being boarded by the enemy, who were very 
expert in that kind of war. When he had launched this 
fleet, he ordered twenty archers into each boat, and five 
others with fire-balls, to burn the craft of the Jits, and 
naphtha to set the whole river on fire." 

The agnee aster, too, in Indian poems the Instrument 
of Fire, whose flame cannot be extinguished, is sup- 
posed to signify the Greek fire. (See Wilks's South of 
India, vol. i. p. 471.) And in the curious Javan Poem, 
the Brata Yudha, given by Sir Stamford Raffles in his 
History of Java, we find, "He aimed at the heart of 
Soeta with the sharp-pointed Weapon of Fire." 

The mention of gunpowder as in use among the 
Arabians, long before its supposed discovery in Europe, 
is introduced by Ebn Fadhl, the Egyptian geographer, 



NOTES. 281 

who lived in the thirteenth century. Bodies, he savs, 
"in the form of scorpions, bound round and filled w'ith 
nitrous powder, glide along, making a gentle noise ; 
then, exploding, they lighten, as it were, and burn. 
But there are others which, cast into the air, stretch along 
like a cloud, roaring horribly, as thunder roars, and on 
all sides vomiting out flames, burst, burn, and reduce to 
cinders whatever comes in their way." The historian 
Ben Abdalla, in speaking of the sieges of Abulualid in 
the year of the Hegira 712, says, *'A fiery globe, by 
means of combustible matter, with a mighty noise sud- 
denly emitted, strikes with the force of lightning, and 
shakes the citadel." (See the extracts from Casiri's 
Biblioth, Arab, Hispan, in the Appendix to Berington's 
Literary History of the Middle Ages. ) 

Note 142, p. 103. — And horrible as new; — javelins 
that fly. 

The Greek fire, that was occasionally lent by the 
emperors to their allies. "It was," says Gibbon, either 
launched in red-hot balls of stone and iron, or darted in 
arrows or javelins, twisted round with flax and tow, 
which had deeply imbibed the inflammable oil." 

Note 143, p. 103.— Discharge, as from a kindled 
Naphtha fount. 

See Hanway's Account of the Springs of Naphtha at 
Baku (which is called by Lieutenant Pottinger "Joala 
Mokee," or the Flaming Mouth) taking fire and running 
into the sea. Dr. Cooke, in his Journal, mentions some 
wells in Circassia, strongly impregnated with this inflam- 
mable oil, from which issue boiling water. "Though 
the weather," he adds, "was now very cold, the warmth 
of these wells of hot water produced near them the ver- 
dure and flowers of spring," 

Major Scott Waring says, that naphtha is used by the 
Persians, as we are told it was in hell, for lamps. 

" many a row 

Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed 
With naphtha and asphaltus, yielding light 
As from a sky. ' ' 
Note 144, p. 104. — Like those wild birds that by the 
Magians oft. 



282 NOTES. 



"At the great festival of fire, called the Sheb Seze, 
they used to set fire to large branches of dry combust- 
ibles, fastened round wild beasts and birds, which being 
then let loose, the air and earth appeared one great 
illumination ; and as these terrified creatures naturally 
fled to the woods for shelter, it is easy to conceive the 
conflagrations they produced." — Richardson's Disser- 
tation. 

Note 145, p. 105. — Keep, seal'd with precious musk, 
for those they love. 

"The righteous shall be given to drink of pure wine, 
sealed; the seal whereof shall be musk." — Koran, chap. 
Ixxxiii. 

Note 146, p. 108. — On its own brood; — no Demon of 
the Waste. 

"The Afghauns believe each of the numerous solitudes 
and deserts of their country to be inhabited by a lonely 
demon, whom they call the Ghoolee Beeabau, or 
Spirit of the Waste. They often illustrate the wildness 
of any sequestered tribe, by saying, They are wild as 
the Demon of the Waste." — Elphinstone's Caubul. 

Note 147, p. no. — With burning drugs, for this last 
hour distill'd. 

"II donna du poison dans le vin a tons ses gens, et se 
jeta luimeme ensuite dans une cuve pleine de drogues 
brulantes et consumantes, afin qu'il ne restat rien detous 
les membres de son corps, et que ceux qui restoient desa 
secte pussent croire qu'il etoit monte au ciel, ce qui ne 
manqua pas d'arriver." — D'Herbelot. 

Note 148, p. III. — In the lone Cities of the Silent 
dwell. 

"They have all a great reverence for burial-grounds, 
which they sometimes call by the poetical name of 
Cities of the Silent, and which they people with the 
ghosts of the departed, who sit each at the head of his 
own grave, invisible to mortal eyes." — Elphinstone. 

Note 149, p. 1 16. — And to eat any mangoes but those 
of Mazagong was, of course, impossible." 

"The celebrity of Mazagong is owning to its mangoes, 
which are certainly the best fruit I ever tasted. The 



NOTES. 283 

parent tree, from which all those of this species have 
been grafted, is honored during the fruit-season by a 
guard of sepoys; and, in the reign of Shah Jehan, cour- 
iers were stationed between Delhi and the Mahratta 
coast to secure an abundant and fresh supply of mangoes 
for the royal table." — Mrs. Graham's Journal of a 
Residence in India. 

Note 150, p. 116. — Laden with his fine antique porce- 
lain. 

This old porcelain is found in digging, and "if it is 
esteemed, it is not because it has acquired any new 
degree of beauty in the earth, but because it has 
retained its ancient beauty ; and this alone is of great 
importance in China, where they give large sums for 
the smallest vessels which were used under the Emper- 
ors Yan and Chun, who reigned many ages before the 
dynasty of Tang, at which time porcelain began to be 
used by the Emperors" (about the year 442). — Dunn's 
Collection of curious Observations, etc. ; — a bad transla- 
tion of some parts of the Lettres edifiantes et curieuses 
of the Missionary Jesuits. 

Note 151, p. 118.— And if Nasser, the Arabian mer- 
chant, told no better. 

"La lecture de ces Fables plaisoit si fort aux Arabes, 
que, quand Mahomet les entretenoit de I'Histoire de 
I'Ancien Testament, ils la meprisonient, lui disant que 
celles que Nassar leur racontoit etoient beaucoup plus 
belles. Cette preference attira a Nasser la malediction 
de Mahomet et de tous ses disciples." — D'Herbelot. 

Note 152, p. 118. — Like the blacksmith's apron con- 
verted into a banner. 

The blacksmith Gao, who successfully resisted the 
tyrant Zohak, and whose apron became the Royal 
Standard of Persia. 

Note 153, p. 120. — That sublime bird, which flies 
always in the air, and never touches the earth. 

"The Huma, a bird peculiar to the East. It is sup- 
posed to fly constantly in the air, and never touch the 
ground; it is looked upon as a bird of happy omen; 
and that every head it overshades will in time wear a 
crown. ' ' — Richardson. 



284 NOTES. 

In the terms of alliance made by Fuzzel Oola Khan 
with Hyder in 1760, one of the stipulations was, "that 
he should have the distinction of two honorary attend- 
ants standing behind him, holding fans composed of the 
feathers of the Huma, according to the practice of his 
family. — Wilks's South of India. He adds in a note: — 
"The Huma is a fabulous bird. The head over which its 
shadow once passes will assuredly be circled with a 
crown. The splendid little bird suspended over the 
throne of Tippoo Sultaun, found at Seringapatam in 
1799, was intended to represent this poetical fancy." 

Note 154, p. 120. — Like those on the Written Moun- 
tain, last forever. 

"To the pilgrims of Mount Sinai we must attribute 
the inscriptions, figures, etc., on those rocks, which have 
from thence acquired the name of the Written Moun- 
tain." — Volney. M. Gebelin and others have been at 
much pains to attach some mysterious and important 
meaning to these inscriptions- but Niebuhr, as well 
as Volney, thinks that they must have been executed at 
idle hours by the travelers to Mount Sinai, "who were 
Satisfied with cutting the unpolished rock with any 
pointed instrument; adding to their names and the date 
of their journeys some rude figures, which bespeak the 
hand of a people but little skilled in the arts." — Niebuhr. 

Note 155, p. 121. — Like the Old Man of the Sea, upon 
his back.— The Story of Sinbad. 

Note 156, p. 121. — To which Hafez compares his 
mistress's hair. — See Nott's Hafez, Ode v. 

Note 157, p. 121. — To the Camalata, by whose rosy 
blossoms the heaven of Indra is scented. 

"The Camalata (called by Linnaeus, Ipomsea) is the 
most beautiful of its order, both in the color and form 
of its leaves and flowers; its elegant blossoms are 
'celestial rosy red, Love's proper hue,' and have justly 
procured it the name of Camalata, or Love's Creeper." 
— Sir W. Jones. 

"Camalata may also mean a mythological plant by 
which all desires are granted to such as inhabit the 
heaven of Indra ; and if ever flower was worthy of Par- 
adise, it is our charming Ipomsea." — Sir W. Jones. 



NOTES. 285 

Note 158, p. 122. — That flower-loving nymph whom 
they worship in the temples of Kathay. 

"According to Father Premare, in his tract on Chinese 
Mythology, the mother of Fo-hi was the daughter of 
heaven, surnamed Flower-loving; and as the nymph 
was walking alone on the bank of a river, she found 
herself encircled by a rainbow, after which she became 
pregnant, and, at the end of twelve years, was delivered 
of a son radiant as herself."— Asiatic Researches. 

Note 159, p. 123. — With its plane-tree Isle reflected 
clear. 

'Numerous small islands emerge from the Lake of 
Cashmere. One is called Char Chenaur, from the 
plane-trees upon it." — Foster. 

Note 160, p. 123. — And the golden floods that thither- 
ward stray. 

"The Altan Kol or Golden River of Tibet, which runs 
into the Lakes of Sing-sa-hay, has abundance of gold in 
its sands, which employs the inhabitants all the summer 
in gathering it." — Pinkerton's Description of Tibet. 

Note 161, p. 123. — Blooms nowhere but in Paradise. 

"The Brahmins of this province insist that the blue 
campac flowers only in Paradise." — Sir W. Jones. It 
appears, however, from a curious letter of the Sultan of 
Menangcabow, given by Marsden, that one place on 
earth may lay claim to the possession of it. "This is 
the Sultan, who keeps the flower champaka that is blue, 
and to be found in no other country but his, being yel- 
low elsewhere." — Marsden's Sumatra. 

Note 162, p. 124. — Flung at night from angel hands, 

"The Mahometans suppose that falling stars are the 
firebrands wherewith the good angels drive away the 
bad, when they approach too near the empyrean or verge 
of the heavens." — Frier. 

Note 163, p. 124. — Beneath the pillars of Chilminar. 

The f^'orty Pillars ; so the Persians call the ruins of 
Persepolis. It is imagined by them that this palace and 
the edifices at Balbec were built by Genii, for the pur- 
pose of hiding in their subterraneous caverns immense 
treasures, which still remain there, (See D'Herbelot 
and Volney.) 



286 NOTES. 

Note 164, p. 124.— To the south of sun-bright Araby. 

The Isles of Panchaia, 

Diodorus mentions the Ise of Panchaia, to the south 
of Arabia Felix, where there was a temple of Jupiter. 
This island, or rather cluster of isles, has disappeared, 
•'sunk (says Grandpre) in the abyss made by the fire 
beneath their foundations." — Voyage to the Indian 
Ocean. 

Note 165, p. 124. — The jewell'd cup of their King 
Jamshid. 

"The cup of Jamshid, discovered, they say, when 
digging for the foundations of Persepolis. " — Richardson. 

Note 166, p. 124. — O'er coral rocks, and amber beds. 

"It is not like the Sea of India, whose bottom is rich 
with pearls and ambergris, whose mountains of the coast 
are stored with gold and precious stones, whose gulfs 
breed creatures that yield ivory, and among the plants 
of whose shores are ebony, red wood, and the wood of 
Hairzan, aloes, camphor, cloves, sandal-wood, and all 
other spices and aromatics: where parrots and peacocks 
are birds of the forest, and musk and civet are collected 
upon the lands." — Travels of Two Mohammedans. 

Note 167, p. 125.— Thy Pagods and thy pillar'd shades. 

" in the ground 

The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow 
About the mother-tree, a pillar'd shade, 
High over-arch'd, and echoing walks between." 

— Milton. 

For a particular description and plate of the Banyan- 
tree, see Cordiner's Ceylon. 

Note 168, p. 125. — Thy Monarchs and their Thousand 
Thrones. 

"With this immense treasure Mamood returned to 
Ghizni, and in the ypar 400 prepared a magnificent festi- 
val, where he displayed to the people his wealth in golden 
thrones and in other ornaments, in a great plain without 
the city of Ghizni." — Ferishta. 

Note 169, p. 125. — 'Tishe of Gazna — fierce in wrath. 

"Mahmood of Gazna, or Ghizni, who conquered India 
in the beginning of the eleventh century." (See his his- 
tory in Dow and Sir J. Malcolm.) 



NOTES. 287 

Note 170, p. 125. — Of many a young and lov'd Sultana. 

• *It is reported that the hunting equipage of the Sultan 
Mahmood was so magnificent that he kept 400 grey- 
hounds and bloodhounds, each of which wore a collar 
set with jewels, and a covering edged with gold and 
pearls." — Universal History, vol. iii. 

Note 171, p. 126. — For Liberty shed, so holy, is. 

Objections may be made to my use of the word Lib- 
erty in this, and more especially in the story that fol- 
lows it, as totally inapplicable to any state of things that 
has every existed in the East; but though I cannot, of 
course, mean to employ it in that enlarged and noble 
sense which is so well understood at the present day, and, 
I grieve to say so little acted upon, yet it is no dispar- 
agement to the word to apply it to that national inde- 
pendence, that freedom from the interference and dicta- 
tion of foreigners, without which, indeed, no liberty of 
any kind can exist; and for which both Hindoos and 
Persians fought against their Mussulman invaders with, 
in many cases, a bravery that deserved much better suc- 
cess. 

Note 172, p. 127. — Now among Afric's lunar Moun- 
tains. 

"The Mountains of the Moon, or the Montes Lunss of 
antiquity, at the foot of which the Nile is supposed to 
rise." — Bruce. 

"Sometimes called," says Jackson, "Jibbel Kumrie, 
or the white or lunar-colored mountains ; so a white 
horse is called by the Arabians a moon-colored horse." 

Note 173, p. 127. — And hail the new born Giant's smile. 

"The Nile, which the Abyssinians know by the names 
of Abey and Alawy, or the Giant." — Asiatic Researches, 
vol. i. p. 387. 

Note 174, p. 127. — Her grots, and sepulchres of Kings. 

See Perry's View of the Levant for an account of the 
sepulchres in Upper Thebes, and the numberless grots, 
covered all over with hieroglyphics, in the mountains of 
Upper Egypt. 

Note 175, p. 127. — In warm Rosetta's vale — now loves. 

"The orchards of Rosetta are filled with turtle-doves. " 
— Sonnini. 



288 NOTES. 

Note 176, p. 127. — The azure calm of Moeris' Lake. 
Savery mentions the pelicans upon Lake Mosris. 

Note 177, p. 127. — Warns them to their silken beds. 

"The superb date-tree, whose head languidly reclines, 
like that of a handsome woman overcome with sleep. " 
— Dafard el Hadad. 

Note 178, p. 123. — Some purple-wing'd Sultana sitting. 

"That beautiful bird, with plumage of the finest shin- 
ing blue, with purple beak and legs, the natural and liv- 
ing ornament of the temples and palaces of the Greeks 
and Romans, which, from the stateliness of its port, as 
well as the brilliancy of its colors, has obtained the title 
of Sultana." — Sonnini. 

Note 179, p. 128. — Only the fierce hyaena stalks. 

Jackson, speaking of the plague that occurred in West 
Barbary, when he was there, says, "The birds of the air 
fled away from the abodes of men. The hyaenas, on the 
contrary, visited the cemeteries," etc. 

Note 180, p. 128. — Throughout the city's desolate 
walks. 

"Gondar was full of hyaenas from the time it turned 
dark till the dawn of day, seeking the difiFerent pieces of 
slaughtered carcasses which this cruel and unclean 
people expose in the streets without burial, and who 
firmly believe that these animals are Falashta from the 
neighboring mountains, transformed by magic, and 
come down to eat human flesh in the dark in safety." — 
Bruce. 

Note 181, p. 128. — The glaring of those large blue 
eyes. — Bruce. 

Note 182, p. 130. — But see — who yonder comes by 
stealth. 

This circumstance has been often introduced into 
poetry, — by Viacentius Fabricius, by Darwin, and lately, 
with very powerful effect, by Mr. Wilson. 

Note 183, p. 132. — Who sings at the last his own death- 
lay. 

"In the East, they suppose the Phoenix to have fifty 
orifices in his bill, which are continued to his tail; and 
that, after living one thousand years, he builds himself 



NOTES. 289 

a funeral pile, sings a melodious air of different har- 
monies through his fifty organ pipes, flaps his wings 
with a velocity which sets fire to the wood, and con- 
sumes himself." — Richardson. 

Note 184, p. 133. — The first sweet draught of glory 
take. 

"On the shores of a quadrangular lake stand a thou- 
sand goblets, made of stars, out of which souls predes- 
tined to enjoy felicity drink the crystal wave." — From 
Chateaubriand's Description of the Mahometan Paradise 
in his Beauties of Christianity. 

Note 185, p. 133. — Now, upon Syria's land of roses. 

Richardson thinks that Syria had its name from Suri, 
a beautiful and delicate species of rose, for which that 
country has been always famous ; — hence, Suristan, the 
Land of Roses. 

Note 186, p. 133. — Gay lizards, glittering on the walls. 

"The number of lizards I saw one day in the great 
court of the Temple of the Sun at Balbec amounted to 
many thousands ; the ground, the walls, and stones of 
the ruined building were covered with them." — Bruce. 

Note 187, p. 134. — Of shepherd's ancient reed. 
**The Syrinx, or Pan's pipe, is still a pastoral instru- 
ment in Syria." — Russel. 

Note 188, p. 134.— Of the wild bees of Palestine. 

"Wild bees, frequent in Palestine, in hollow trunks or 
branches of trees, and the clefts of rocks. Thus it is 
said (Psa. Ixxxi. ), 'honey out of the stony rock.' " — Bur- 
der's Oriental Customs. 

Note i8g, p. 134. — And woods, so full of nightingales. 

"The river Jordan is on both sides beset with little, 
thick, and pleasant woods, among which thousands of 
nightingales warble all together." — Thevenot. 

Note igo, p. 134.— On that great Temple, once his 
own. 
The Temple of the Sun at Balbec. 

Note 19T, p. 135. — The beautiful blue damsel flies. 
"You behold there a considerable number of a reirifirk- 
able species of beautiful insects, the elegaace of whose 
19 



290 NOTES. 

appearance and their attire procured for them the name 
of Damsels." — Sonnini. 

Note ig2. p. 135. — Of a small imaret's rustic fount. 

Imarte, "hospice ou on loge etnourrit, gratis, les peler- 
ins pendant trois jours." — Toderini, translated by the 
Abbe de Cournand. (See also Castellan's Mceurs des 
Othomans, torn. v. p. 145.) 

Note 193, p. 136. — Kneels, with his forehead to the 
south. 

"Such Turks as at the common hours of prayer are on 
the road, or so employed as not to find convenience to 
attend the mosques, are still obliged to execute that 
duty ; nor are they ever known to fail, whatever business 
they are then about, but pray immediately when the 
hour alarms them, whatever they are about, in that very 
place they chance to stand on; insomuch that when a 
janissary, whom you have to guard you up and down 
the city, hears the notice which is given him from the 
steeples, he will turn about, stand still, and beckon with 
his hand, to tell his charge he must have patience for a 
while ; when, taking out his handkerchief, he spreads it 
on the ground, sits cross-legged thereupon, and says his 
prayers, though in the open market, which having 
ended, he leaps briskly up, salutes the person whom he 
undertook to convey, and renews his journey with the 
mild expression of Ghell ghonnum ghell, or. Come, dear, 
follow me." — Aaron Hill's Travels. 

Note 194, p. 137. — Upon Egypt's land, of so healing a 
power. 

The Nucta, or Miraculous Drop, which falls in Egypt 
precisely on St. John's Day, in June, and is supposed to 
have the effect of stopping the plague. 

Note 195, p. 138. — Are the diamond turrets of Shaduk- 
iam. 

The Country of Delight — the name of a province in 
the kingdom of Jinnistan, or Fairly Land, the capital of 
which is called the City of Jewels. Amberabad is 
another of the cities of Jinnistan. 

Note 196, p. 138.— My feast is now of the Tooba Tree. 

The tree Tooba, that stands in Paradise, in the palace 



NOTES. 291 

of Mahomet. See Sale's Prelim. Disc. — Tooba, says 
D'Herbelot, signifies beatitude, or eternal happiness. 

Note 197, p. 138. — To the lote-tree, springing by AUa's 
throne. 

Mahomet is described, in the 53d chapter of the Koran, 
as having seen the Angel Gabriel "by the lote-tree, 
beyond which there is no passing: near it is the Garden 
of Eternal Abode." This tree, say the commentators, 
stands in the seventh Heaven, on the right hand of the 
Throne of God. 

Note 198, p. 139. — As the hundred and twenty thou- 
sand streams of Basra. 

"It is said that the rivers or streams of Basra were 
reckoned in the time of Pelal ben Abi Bordeh, and 
amounted to the number of one hundred and twenty 
thousand streams." — Ebn Haukal. 

Note 199, p. 139. — Who, like them, flung the jereed 
carelessly. 

The name of the javelin with which the Easterns exer- 
cise. (See Castellan, Moeurs des Otholmans, tom. iii. 
p. 161.) 

Note 200, p. 140. — The Banyan Hospital. 

"This account excited a desire of visiting the Banyan 
Hospital, as I had heard much of their benevolence to 
all kinds of animals that were either sick, lame, or infirm, 
through age or accident. On my arrival, there were 
presented to my view many horses, cows, and oxen, in 
one apartment; in another, dogs, sheep, goats, and 
monkeys, with clean straw for them to repose on. 
Above stairs were depositories for seeds of many sorts, 
and flat, broad dishes for water, for the use of birds and 
insects." — Parsons's Travels. 

It is said that all animals know the Banyans, that the 
most timid approach them, and that birds will fly nearer 
to them than to other people. (See Grandpre.) 

Note 201, p. 140. — Like that of the fragrant grass near 
the Ganges. 

"A very fragrant grass from the banks of the Ganges, 
near Heridwar, which in some places covers whole 
acres, and diffuses, when crushed, a strong odor." — Sir 
W. Jones, on the Spikenard of the Ancients. 



292 NOTES. 

Note 202, p. 140. — No one had ever yet reached its 
summit. 

"Near this is a curious hill, called Koh Talism, the 
Mountain of the Talisman, because, according to the 
traditions of the country, no person ever succeeded in 
gaining its summit." — Kinneir. 

Note 203, p 142. — Is warmed into life by the eyes 
alone. 

"The Arabians believe that the ostriches hatch their 
young by only looking at them. " — P. Vanslebe, Relat. 
d'Egypte. 

Note 204, p. 142. — And then lost them again forever. 
— See Sale's Koran, note, vol. ii. p. 484. 

Note 205, p. 143. — While the artisans in chariots. — Ori- 
ental Tales. 

Note 206, p. 143. — Who kept waving over their heads 
plates of gold and silver flowers. — Ferishta. 

"Or rather," says Scott, upon the passage of Ferishta, 
from which this is taken, "small coins, stamped with 
the figure of a flower. They are still used in India to 
distribute in charity, and, on occasion, thrown by the 
purse-bearers of the great among the populace." 

Note 207, p. 143. — Alley of trees. 

The fine road made by the Emperor Jehan-Guire from 
Agra to Lahore, planted with trees on each side. This 
road is 250 leagues in length. It has "little pyramids 
or turrets," says Bernier, "erected every half league, to 
mark the ways, and frequent wells to afford drink to 
passengers, and to water the young trees." 

Note 208, p. 145. — That favorite tree of the luxurious 
bird that lights up the chambers of its nest with fire-flies. 
The Baya, or Indian Grosbeak. — Sir W. Jones. 

Note 209, p. 145. — On the clear cold waters of which 
floated multitudes of the beautiful red lotus. 

"Here is a large pagoda by a tank, on the water of 
which float multitudes of the beautiful red lotus; the 
flower is larger than that of the white water-lily, and is 
the most lovely of the nymphaes I have seen." — Mrs. 
Graham's Journal of a Residence in India. 



NOTES. 293 

Note 2IO, p. 146. — Had fled hither from their Arab 
conquerors. 

On les voit persecutes par les Khalif se retirere dans 
les montagnes du Kerman: plusieurs choisirent pour 
retraite la Tartaric et le Chine ; d'autres s'arreterent sur 
les bords du Gange, a Test de Delhi." — M. Anquetil, 
Memories de 1' Academic, torn. xxxi. p. 346. 

Note 211, p. 146. — Like their own Fire in the Burning 
Field at Bakou. 

The "Ager ardens" described by Kaempfer, Amaen- 
itat Exot. 

Note 212, p. 146. — The prey of strangers. 

"Cashmere (says its historians) had its own princes, 
4,000 years before its conquest by Akbar in 1585. Akbar 
would have found some difficulty to reduce this paradise 
of the Indies, situated as it is within such a fortress of 
mountains, but its monarch Yusel-Khan was basely 
betrayed by his Omrahs." — Pennant. 

Note 213, p. 147. — Fire-worshippers. 

Voltaire tells us that in his tragedy, "Les Guebres," 
he was generally supposed to have alluded to the Jan- 
senists. I should not be surprised if this story of the 
Fire-worshippers were found capable of a similar dou- 
bleness of application. 

Note 214, p. 148. — *Tis moonlight over Oman's Sea. 
'i'he Persian Gulf, sometimes so called, which separ- 
ates the shores of Persia and Arabia. 

Note 215, p. 148. — 'Tis moonlight in Harmozia's walls. 
The present Gombaroon, a town on the Persian side 
of the Gulf. 

Note 216, p. 148. — Of trumpet and the clash of zel. 
A Moorish instrument of music. 

Note 217, p. 148. — The wind-tower on the Emir's 
dome. 

"At Gombaroon and other places in Persia, they have 
towers for the purpose of catching the wind, and cool- 
ing the houses." — Le Bruyn. 

Note 218, p. 148.— His race hath brought on Iran's 
name. 



294 NOTES. 

"Iran is the true general name for the empire of 
Persia."— Asiatic Researches, Disc. 5. 

Note 219, p. 149. — Engraven on his reeking sword. 
"On the blades of their scimitars some verse from the 
Koran is usually inscribed." — Russel. 

Note 220, p. 149. — Draw venom forth that drives men 
mad. 

"There is a kind of Rhododendron about Trebizond 
whose flowers the bee feeds upon, and the honey thence 
drives people mad." — Tournefort. 

Note 221, p. 150. — Upon the turban of a king. 

"Their kings wear plumes of black herons' feathers 
upon the right side as a badge of sovereignty." — Han- 
way. 

Note 222, p. 151. — Springing in a desolate mountain. 

"The Fountain of Youth, by a Mahometan tradition, 
is situated in some dark region of the East." — Richard- 
son. 

Note 223, p. 151. — On summer-eves, through Yemen's 
dales. 

Arabia Felix. 

Note 224, p. 151. — Who, lull'd in cool kiosk or bower. 

"In the midst of the garden is the chiosk, that is, a 
large room, commonly beautified with a fine fountain in 
the midst of it. It is raised nine or ten steps, and 
enclosed with gilded lattices, round which vines, jessa- 
mines, and honeysuckles make a sort of green wall; 
large trees are planted round this place, which is the 
scene of their greatest pleasures." — Lady M. W. 
Montagu. 

Note 225, p. 151. — Before their mirrors count the time. 

The women of the East are never without their look- 
ing-glasses. In "Barba^5^" says Shaw, "they are so 
fond of their looking-glasses, which they hang upon 
their breasts, that they will not lay them aside, even 
when, after the drudgery of the day, they are obliged to 
go two or three miles with a pitcher or a goat's skin to 
fetch water." — Travels. 

In other parts of Asia they wear little looking-glasses 
on their thumbs. "Hence (and from the lotus being 



NOTES. 295 

considered the emblem of beauty) is the meaning of the 
following mute intercourse of two lovers before their 
parents: — 

" 'He, with salute of deference due 
A lotus to his forehead prest; 
She rais'd her mirror to his view, 
Then turn'd it inward to her breast.' " 
— Asiatic Miscellany, vol. ii. 

Note 226, p. 152. — Upon the emerald's virgin blaze. 

"They say that if a snake or serpent fix his eyes on 
the lustre of those stones (emeralds), he immediately 

becomes blind." Ahmed ben Abdalaziz, Treatise on 

Jewels. 

Note 227, p. 153.— After the day-beam's withering 
fire. 

"At Gombaroon and the Isle of Ormus, it is sometimes 
so hot that the people are obliged to lie all day in the 
water." — Marco Polo. 

Note 228, p. 153. — Of Ararat's tremendous peak. 

This mountain is generally supposed to be inacces- 
sible. Struy says, "I can well assure the reader that 
their opinion is not true, who suppose this mount to be 
inaccessible." He adds, that "the lower part of the 
mountain is cloudy, misty, and dark; the middle-most 
part very cold, and like clouds of snow; but the upper 
regions perfectly calm." It was on this mountain that 
the Ark was supposed to have rested after the Deluge, 
and part of it, they say, exists there still, which Struy 
thus gravely accounts for: — "Whereas none can remem- 
ber that the air on the top of the hill did ever change or 
was subject either to wind or rain, which is presumed to 
be the reason that the Ark has endured so long without 
being rotten."— (See Carreri's Travels, where the Doc- 
tor laughs at this whole account of Mount Ararat.) 

Note 229, p. 153. — The bridegroom, with his locks of 
light. 

In one of the books of the Shah Nameh, when Zal (a 
celebrated hero of Persia, remarkable for his white hair) 
comes to the terrace of his mistress Rodahver at night, 
she lets down her long tresses to assist him in his ascent; 
— he, however, manages it in a less romantic way, by 



296 NOTES. 

fixing his crook in a projecting beam. (See Champion's 
Ferdosi. ) 

Note 230, p. 154.— The rock-goats of Arabia clamber. 
"On the lofty hills of Arabia Petraea are rock- goats." 
— Niebuhr. 

Note 231, p. 154. — Some ditty to her soft Kanoon. 

*'Canun, espece de psalterion, avec des cordes de 
boyaux; les dames en touchent dans le serail, avec des 
ecailles armees de pointes de cooc." — Toderini, trans- 
lated by De Cournand. 

Note 232, p. 159.— The Gheber belt that round him 
clung. 

"They (the Ghebers) lay so much stress on their cushee 
or girdle, as not to dare to be an instant without it." — 
Grose's Voyage. 

"Le jeune homme nia d'abord la chose; mais, ayant 
ete depouille de sa robe, et la large ceinture qu'il portoit 
comme Ghebr," etc., etc.— D'Herbelot, art. Agduani. 

"Pour se distinguer des Idolatres de I'lnde, les 
Guebres se ceignent tous d'un cordon de laine, ou de 
poil de chameau." — Encyclopedic Francoise. 

D'Herbelot says this belt was generally of leather. 

Note 233, p. 159. — Among the living lights of heaven. 

"They suppose the Throne of the Almighty is seated 
in the sun, and hence their worship of that luminary." — 
Hanway. 

"As to fire, the Ghebers place the spring-head of it in 
that globe of fire, the Sun, by them called Mythras, or 
Mihir, to which they pay the highest reverence, in grat- 
itude for the manifold benefits flowing from its minis- 
terial omniscience. But they are so far from confound- 
ing the subordination of the Servant with the majesty 
of its Creator, that they not only attribute no sort of 
sense or reasoning to the sun or fire, in any of its opera- 
tions, but consider it as a purely passive blind instru- 
ment, directed and governed by the immediate impres- 
sion on it of the will of God ; but they do not even give 
that luminary, all-glorious as it is, more than the second 
rank amongst His works, reserving the first for that 
stupendous production of divine power, the mind of 
man." — Grose. 



NOTES. 297 

The false charges brought against the religion of these 
people by their Mussulman tyrants is but one proof 
among man}'' of the truth of this writer's remark, that, 
"calumny is often added to oppression, if but for the 
sake of justifying it." 

Note 234, p. 161. — And fiery darts, at intervals 
"The Mameluks that were in the other boat, when it 
was dark, used to shoot up a sort of fiery arrows into 
the air, which is some measure resembled lightning or 
falling stars." — Baumgarten. 

Note 235, p. 162. — Which grows over the tomb of the 
musician, Tan-Sein. 

"Within the enclosure which surrounds this monument 
(at Gualior) is a small tomb to the memory of Tan-Sein, 
a musician of incomparable skill, who flourished at the 
court of Akbar. The tomb -is overshadowed by a tree 
concerning which a superstitious notion prevails, that 
the chewing of its leaves v/ill give an extraordinary 
melody to the voice." — Narrative of a Journey from 
Agra to Ouzein, by W. Hunter, Esq. 

Note 236, p. 162. — The awful signal of the bamboo 
staff. 

"It is usual to place a small white triangular flag, 
fixed to a bamboo staff of ten or twelve feet long, at the 
place where a tiger has destroyed a man. It is common 
for the passengers also to throw each a stone or brick 
near the spot, so that in the course of a little time a pile 
equal to a good wagon-load is collected. The sight of 
these flags and piles of stones imparts a certain melan- 
choly, not perhaps altogether void of apprehension." — 
Oriental Field Sports, vol. ii. 

Note 237, p. 162. — Ornamented with the most beautiful 
porcelain. 

"The Ficus Indica is called the Pagod Tree and Tree 
of Councils; the first, from the idols placed under its 
shade; the second, because meetings were held under 
its cool branches. In some places it is believed to be 
the haunt of spectres, as the ancient spreading oaks of 
Wales have been of fairies; in others are erected 
beneath the shade pillars of stone, or posts, elegantly 



2S8 NOTES. 

carved, and ornamented with the most beautiful porce- 
lain to supply the use of mirrors." — Pennant. 

Note 238, p. 163. — And o'er the Green Sea palely 
shines. 

The Persian Gulf. — "To dive for pearls in the Green 
Sea, or Persian Gulf." — Sir W. Jones. 

Note 239, p. 163. — Revealing Bahrein's groves of palm. 
And lighting Kishma's amber vines. 
Islands in the Gulf. 

Note 240, p. 163. — Blow round Selama's sainted cape. 

Of Selemeh, the genuine name of the headland at the 
entrance of the Gulf, commonly called Cape Musseldom. 
"The Indians, when they pass the promontory, throw 
cocoanuts, fruits, or flowers, into the sea, to secure a 
propitious voyage," — Morier. 

Note 241, p. 163. — The nightingale now bends her 
flight. 

"The nightingale sings from the pomegranate groves 
in the daytime, and from the loftiest trees at night." — 
Russel's Aleppo. 

Note 242, p. 163. — The best and brightest scimitar. 

In speaking of the climate of Shiraz, Francklin says, 
*'The dew is of such a pure nature, that if the brightest 
scimitar should be exposed to it all night, it would not 
receive the least rust." 

Note 243, p. 164. — Who, on Cadessia's bloody plains. 

The place where the Persians were finally defeated by 
the Arabs, and their ancient monarchy destroyed." 

Note 244, p. 164. — Beyond the Caspian's Iron Gates. 

Derbend. — "Les Turcs appellent cette ville Demir 
Capi, Porte de Per: ce sont les Caspise Portse des 
ancients." — D'Herbelot. 

Note 245, p. 165. — They burst, like Zeilan's giant 
palm. 

The Talpot or Talipot tree. "This beautiful palm 
tree, which grows in the heart of the forest, may be 
classed among the loftiest trees, and becomes still higher 
when on the point of bursting forth from its leafy sum- 
mit. The sheath which then envelops the flavor is very 



NOTES. 299 

large, and, when it bursts, makes an explosion like the 
report of a cannon." — Thunberg. 

Note 246, p. 166. — Before whose sabre's dazzling light. 
"When the bright scimitars make the eyes of our 
heroes wink." — The Moallakat, Poem of Amru. 

Note 247, p. 167. — Sprung from those old enchanted 
kings. 

Tahmuras, and other ancient kings of Persia; whose 
adventures in Fairy-land among the Peris and Dives 
may be found in Richardson's curious Dissertation. 
The griffin Simoorgh, they say, took some feathers 
from her breast for Tahmuras, with which he adorned 
his helmet, and transmitted them afterwards to his 
descendants. 

Note 248, p. 167. — Of sainted cedars on its banks. 

This rivulet, says Dandini, is called the Holy River, 
from the "cedar saints" among which it rises. 

In the "Letters Edifiantes," there is a different cause 
assigned for its name of Holy. "In these are deep 
caverns, which formerly served as so many cells for a 
great number of recluses, who had chosen these re- 
treats as the only witnesses upon earth of the severity 
of their penance. The tears of these pious penitents 
gave the river of which we have just treated the name 
of the Holy River." — See Chauteaubriand's Beauties 
of Christianity. 

Note 249, p. 169. — Of Oman beetling awfully. 

This mountain is my own creation, as the "stupen- 
dous chain," of which I suppose it a link, does not ex- 
tend quite so far as the shores of the Persian Gulf. 
"This long and lofty range of mountains formerly 
divided Media from Assyria, and now forms the bound- 
ary of the Persian and Turkish empires. It runs par- 
allel with the river Tigris and Persian Gulf, and, 
almost disappearing in the vicinity of Gomberoon (Har- 
mozia), seems once more to rise in the southern districts 
of Kerman, and following an easterly course through 
the centre of Meckraun and Balouchistan, is entirely 
lost in the deserts of Sinde." — Kinneir's Persian Em- 
pire. 



300 NOTES. 

Note 250, p. 169. — That oft the sleeping albatross. 

These birds sleep in the air. They are most common 
about the Cape of Good Hope. 

Note 251, p. 169. — Beneath the Gheber's lonely cliff. 

"There is an extraordinary hill in this neighborhood, 
called Kohe Gubr, or the Guebre's mountain. It rises 
in the form of a lofty cupalo, and on the summit of it, 
they say, are the remains of an Atush Kudu, or Fire- 
Temple. It is superstitiously held to be the residence 
of Deeves or Sprites, and many marvelous stories are 
recounted of the injury and witchcraft suffered by those 
who essayed in former days to ascend or explore it." — 
Pottinger's Beloochistan. 

Note 252, p. 170. — Of that vast mountain stood on fire. 

The Ghebers generally built their temples over sub- 
terraneous fires. 

Note 253, p. 170. — Still did the mighty flame burn on. 

"At the cityof Yezd, in Persia, which is distinguished 
by the appellation of the Darub Abadut, or Sea of Reli- 
gion, the Guebres are permitted to have an Atush 
Kudu, or Fire-Temple (which, they assert, has had the 
sacred fire in it since the days of Zoroaster), in their 
own compartment of the city; but for this indulgence 
they are indebted to the avarice, not the tolerance of 
the Persian government, which taxes them at twenty- 
five rupees each man." — Pottinger's Beloochistan. 

Note 254, p. 171. — The blood of Zal, and Rustam rolls. 

Ancient heroes of Persia. "Among the Guebres 
there are some who boast their descent from Rustam." 
— Stephen's Persia. 

Note 255, p. 172. — Across the dark sea robber's way. 

See Russel's account of the panther's attacking trav- 
elers, in the night on the sea-shore about the roots of 
Lebanon. 

Note 256, p. 172.— The wandering Spirits of their 
Dead. 

"Among other ceremonies the Magi used to place 
upon the tops of high towers various kinds of rich 
viands, upon which it was supposed the Peris and the 
spirits of their departed heroes regaled themselves. " — 
Richardson. 



NOTES. 301 

Note 257, p. 172. — Nor charmed leaf of pure pome- 
granate. . . . ^. 

In the ceremonies of the Ghebers round their t ire, 
as described by Lord, "the Daroo," he says, "giveth 
them water to drink, and a pomegranate leaf to chew m 
the mouth, to cleanse them from inward uncleanness." 

Note 258, p. 172.— Nor symol of their worshipped 
planet. _, , , 

"Early in the morning, they (the Parisees or Ghebbers 
at Oulam) go in crowds to pay their devotions to the 
Sun, to whom upon all the altars there are spheres con- 
secrated, made by magic, resembling the circles of the 
sun, and when the sun rises these orbs seem to be in- 
flamed, and to turn round with a great noise. They 
have every one a censer in their hands, and offer in- 
cense to the sun."— Rabbi Benjamin. 

Note 259, p. 172.— They swore the latest, holiest deed. 

"Nul d'entre eux oseroit se parjurer, quand il a pris 
a temoin cet element terrible et vengeur."— Encyclope- 
dia Francoise. 

Note 260, p. 173.— The Persian lily shines and towers. 

"A vivid verdure succeeds the autumnal rains, and 
the ploughed fields are covered with the Persian lily, of 
a resplendent yellow color."— Russel's Aleppo. 

Note 261, p. 175.— When toss'd at midnight furiously. 

"It is observed, with respect to the Sea of Herkend, 
that when it is tossed by tempestuous winds it sparkles 
like fire. "—Travels of Two Mohammedans. 

Note 262, p. 1 75-— Up, daughter, ^up,— the Kerna's 
breath. , , ^ 

A kind of trumpet;— it "was that used by Tamerlane, 
the sound of which is described as uncommonly dread- 
ful, and so loud as to be heard at the distance of several 
miles. ' ' — Richardson. 

Note 263, p. 176.— Thou wor'st on Ohod's field of 

death. . -, ^ • 

"Mohammed had two helmets, an interior and exterior 
one; the latter of which, called Al Mawashah, the fillet, 
wreath, or wreathed garland, he wore at the battle of 
Ohod." — Universal History. 



302 NOTES. 

Note 264, p. 178. — But turn to ashes on the lips. 

They say that there are apple-trees upon the sides of 
this sea, which bear very lovely fruit, but within are all 
full of ashes. — Thevenot. The same is asserted of the 
oranges there: vide Witman's Travels in Asiatic 
Turkey. 

"The Asphalt Lake, known by the name of the 
Dead Sea, is very remarkable on account of the consid- 
erable proportion of salt which it contains. In this 
respect it surpasses every other known water on the sur- 
face of the earth. This great proportion of bitter-tasted 
salts is the reason why neither animal nor plant can live 
in this water." — Klaproth's Chemical Analysis of the 
Water of the Dead Sea, Annals of Philosophy, January, 
1 8 13. Hasselquist, however, doubts the truth of this 
last assertion, as there are shell-fish to be found in the 
lake. 

Lord Byron has a similar allusion to the fruits of the 
Dead Sea, in that wonderful display of genius, his third 
canto of Childe Harold,— magnificent beyond anything, 
perhaps, that even he has ever written. 

Note 265, p. 178.— While lakes, that shone in mockery 
nigh. 

"The Suhrah, or Water of the Desert, is said to be 
caused by the rarefaction of the atmosphere from ex- 
treme heat; and, which augments the delusion, it is 
most frequent in hollows, where water might be ex- 
pected to lodge. I have seen bushes and trees reflected 
in it with as much accuracy as though it had been the 
face of a clear and still lake." — Pottinger. 

"As to the unbelievers, their works are like a vapor 
in a plain which the thirsty traveler thinketh to be 
water, until when he cometh thereto he findeth it to be 
nothing." — Koran, chap. xxiv. 

Note 266, p. 178. — The Bidmusk had just passed over. 

"A wind which prevails in February, called 
Bidmusk, from a small and odoriferous flower of that 
name." — "The wmd which blows these flowers com- 
monly lasts till the end of the month."— Le Bruyn. 

Note 267, p. 178.— The sea-gipsies, who live forever 
on the water. 

"The Biajus are of two races: the one is settled on 



NOTES. 303 

Borneo, and are a rude but warlike and industrious 
nation, who reckon themselves the original possessors 
of the Island of Borneo. The other is a species of sea- 
gipsies or itinerant fishermen, who live in small covered 
boats, and enjoy a perpetual summer on the Eastern 
Ocean, shifting to leeward from island to island, with 
the variations of the monsoon. In some of their cus- 
toms, this singular race resembles the natives of the 
Maldivia islands. The Maldivians annually launch a 
small bark, loaded with perfumes, gums, flowers, and 
odoriferous wood, and turn it adrift at the mercy of 
winds and waves, as an offering to the Spirit of the 
Winds ; and sometimes similar offerings are made to 
the spirit whom they term the King of the Sea. In like 
manner the Biajus perform their offering to the God of 
Evil, launching a small bark, loaded with all the sins 
and misfortunes of the nation, which are imagined to 
fall on the unhappy crew that may be so unlucky as 
iirst to meet with It. " — Dr. Leyden on the Languages 
and Literature of the Indo-Chinese Nations. 

Note 268, p. 179. — The violet sherbets. 

"The sweet-scented violet is one of the plants most 
-esteemed, particularly for its great use in Sorbet, which 
they make of violet sugar," — Hasselquist. 

"The sherbet they most esteem, and which is drunk 
iDy the Grand Signor himself, is made of violets and 
sugar. " — Tavernier. 

Note 269, p. 179. — The pathetic measure of Nava. 

"Last of all she took a guitar, and sung a pathetic air 
in the measure called Nava, which is always used to ex- 
press the lamentations of absent lovers." — Persian 
Tales. 

Note 270, p. 180. — No music tim'd her parting oar. 

"The Easterns used to set out on their longer voyages 
with music." — Harmer. 

Note 271, p. 180. — In silence through the Gate of 
Tears. 

"The Gate of tears, the straits or passage into the 
Red Sea, commonly called Babelmandeb. It received 
this name from the old Arabians, on account of the dan- 
ger of the navigation, and the number of shipwrecks by 



304 NOTES. 

which it was distinguished; which induced them to con- 
sider as dead, and to wear mourning for, all who had 
the boldness to hazard the passage through it into the 
Ethiopic ocean." — Richardson. 

Note 272, p. 180. — In the still warm and living breath. 

"I have been told that whensoever an animal falls 
down dead, one or more vultures, unseen before, in- 
stantly appear." — Pennant. 

Note 273, p. 180. — As a young bird of Babylon. 

"They fasten some writing to the wings of a Bagdat 
or Babylonian pigeon." — Travels of Certain English- 
men. 

Note 274, p. 181. — Shooting around their jasper fount. 

"The empress of Jehan-Guire used to divert herself 
with feeding tame fish in her canals, some of which 
were many years afterwards known by fillets of gold, 
which she caused to be put round them." — Harris. 

Note 275, p. 181. — To tell her ruby rosary. 

"Le Tespih, qui est un chapelet compose de 99 petites 
boules d'gate, de jaspe, d'ambre, de corai, ou d'autre 
matiere precieuse. J 'en ai vu un superbe au Seigneur 
Jerpos ; 11 etoit de belles et drosses perles parfaites et 
egales, estime trente mille piastres."— Toderini. 

Note 276, p. 184. — Like meteor brands as if through- 
out. 
The meteors that Pliny calls "faces." 

Note 277, p. 184. — The Star of Egypt whose proud 
light. 

"The brilliant Canopus, unseen in European clim- 
ates." — Brown. 

Note 278, p. 184.— In the White Islands of the West. 
See Wilford's learned Essays on the Sacred Isles of the 
West. 

Note 279, p. 185.-— Sparkles as 'twere that lightning 
gem. 

A precious stone of the Indies, called by the ancients 
Cerauneum, because it was supposed to be found in 
places where thunder had fallen. Tertullian says it had 
a glittering appearance, as if there had been fire in it; 



NOTES. 305 

and the author of the Dissertation in Harris's Voyages 
supposes it to be the opal. 

Note 280, p. 186.— Their garb— the leathern belt that 
wraps. 

D'Herbelot, art. Agduani. 

Note 281, p. 186. — Each yellow vest— that rebel hue. 

"The Guebres are known by a dark yellow color, 
which the men affect in their clothes." — Thevenot. 

Note 282, p. 186. — The Tartar fleece upon their caps. 

"The Kolah, or cap, worn by the Persians, is made of 
the skin of the sheep of Tartary." — Waring. 

Note 283, p. igi. — Open her bosom's glowing veil. 

A frequent image among the Oriental poets. 

"The nightingales warbled their enchanting notes, 
and rent the thin veils of the rosebud and the rose." — 
Jami. 

Note 284, p. 193. — The sorrowful tree, Nilica. 

"Blossoms of the sorrowful Nyctanthes give a dur- 
able color to silk." — Remarks on the Husbandry of 
Bengal, p. 200. Nilica is one of the Indian names of 
this flower. — Sir W. Jones. The Persians call it Gul. — 
Carreri. 

Note 285, p. 194. — That cooling feast the traveler 
loves. 

"In parts of Kerman, whatever dates are shaken from 
the trees by the wind they do not touch, but leave them 
for those who have not any, or for travelers." — Ebn 
Haukal. 

Note 286, p. 194. — The Searchers of the Grave appear. 

The two terrible angels Monkir and Nakir, who are 
called "the Searchers of the Grave" in the "Creed of 
the orthodox Mahometans" given by Ockley, vol. ii. 

Note 287, p. 195. — The mandrake's charnel leaves at 
night. 

"The Arabians call the mandrake 'the Devil's candle,' 
on account of its shining appearance in the night." — 
Richardson. 

Note 288, p. 200. — Of the still Halls of Ishmonie. 

For an account of Ishmonie, the petrified city in Up- 
per Egypt, where it is said there are many statues of 

20 



306 NOTES. 

men, women, etc., to be seen to this day, see Perry's 
View of the Levant 

Note 289, p. 201. — And ne'er did saint of Issa gaze. — 
Jesus. 

Note 290, p. 202. — The death-flames that beneath him 
burn'd. 

The Ghebers say that when Abraham, their great 
Prophet, was thrown into the fire by order of Nimrod, 
the flame turned instantly into "a bed of roses, where 
the child sweetly reposed." — Tavernier. 

Of their other Prophet, Zoroaster, there is a story 
told in Dion Prusseus, Orat. 36, that the love of wis- 
dom and virtue leading him to a solitary life iipon a 
mountain, he found it one day all in a flame, shining 
with celestial fire, out of which he came without any 
harm, and instituted certain sacrifices to God, who, he 
declared, then appeared to him. (See Patrick on 
Exodus iii. 2.) 

Note 291, p. 204. — A ponderous sea-horn hung, and 
blew. 

"The shell called Siiankos, common to India, Africa, 
and the Mediterranean, and still used in many parts as 
a trumpet for blowing alarms or giving signals : it sends 
forth a deep and hollow sound. " — Pennant. 

Note 292, p. 204. — And the white ox-tails stream'd 
behind. 

"The finest ornament for the horses is made of six 
large flying tassels of long white hair, taken out of the 
tails of wild oxen, that are to be found in some places 
of the Indies." — Thevenot. 

Note 293, p. 206. — Sweet as the angel Israfil's. 

"The angel Israfil, who has the most melodious voice 
of all God's creatures." — Sale. 

Note 294, p. 209. — Wound slow, as through Golconda's 
vale. 

See Hoole upon the Story of Sinbad. 

Note 295, p. 211. — From the wild covert where he lay. 

"In this thicket upon the banks of the Jordan, several 
sorts of wild beasts are wont to harbor themselves, 
whose being washed out of the covert by the overflow- 



NOTES. 307 

ings of the river gave occasion to that allusion of Jere- 
miah, he shall come up like a lion from the swelling of 
Jordan." — Maundrell's Aleppo. 

Note 296, p. 217. — Like the wind of the south o'er a 
summer lute blowing. 

"This wind (the Samoor) so softens the strings of 
lutes that they can never be tuned while it lasts." — 
Stephen's Persia. 

Note 297, p. 218. — With nought but the sea-star to 
light up her tomb. 

"One of the greatest curiosities found in the Persian 
Gi^lf is a fish which the English call Star-fish. It is cir- 
cular, and at night very luminous, resembling the full 
moon surrounded by rays." — Mirza Abu Taleb. 

Note 298, p. 219. — And still when the merry date- 
season is burning. 

For a description of the merriment of the date-time, 
of their work, their dances, and their return home from 
the palm- groves at the end of autumn with the fruits, 
see Kaempfer, Amoenitat. Exot. 

Note 299, p. 219. — That ever the sorrowing sea-bird 
has wept. 

Some naturalists have imagined that amber is a con- 
cretion of the tears of birds. (See Trevoux Chambers.) 

Note 300, p. 219. — We'll seek where the sands of the 
Caspian are sparkling. 

"The bay Kieselarke, which is otherwise called the 
Golden Bay, the sand whereof shines as fire." — Struy. 

Note 301, p. 220. — The summary criticism of the 
Chabuk. 

"The application of whips or rods." — Dubois. 

Note 302, p. 221. — Chief Holder of the Girdle of 
Beautiful Forms. 

Kaempfer mentions such an officer among the atten- 
dants of the King of Persia, and calls him "formse cor- 
poris sestimator." His business was, at stated periods, 
to measure the ladies of the Haram by a sort of regu- 
lation-girdle, whose limits it w^as not thought graceful 
to exceed. If any of them outgrew this standard of 
shape, they v/ere reduced by abstinence till they came 
within proper bounds. 



308 NOTES. 

Note 303, p. 221. — Forbidden River. 

The Attock. 

"Akbar on his way ordered a fort to be built upon 
the Nilab, which he called Attock, which means in the 
Indian language Forbidden; for, by the superstition of 
the Hindoos, it was held unlawful to cross that river." 
— Dow's Hindostan. 

Note 304, p. 222. — One genial star that rises nightly 
over their heads. 

"The inhabitants of this country (Zinge) are never 
afiiicted with sadness or melancholy ; on this subject the 
Sheikh Abu-al-Kheir-Azhari has the following distich: 

" 'Who is the man without care or sorrow, (telJ) that I 
may rub my hand to him. 

" '(Behold) the Zingians, without care or sorrow, frol- 
icsome with tipsiness and mirth. ' 

"The philosophers have discovered that the cause cf 
this cheerfulness proceeds from the influence of the star 
Soheil or Canopus, which rises over them every night." 
— Extract from a Geographical Persian Manuscript called 
Heft Aklim, or the Seven Climates, translated by W. 
Ouseley, Esq. 

Note 305, p. 222. — Lizards. 

"The lizard Stellio. The Arabs call it Hardun. The 
Turks kill it, for they imagine that by declining the head 
it mimics them when they say their prayers." — Hassel- 
quist 

Note 306, p. 223. — Royal Gardens. 

For these particulars respecting Hussan Abdaul, I am 
indebted to the very interesting Introduction of Mr. 
Elphinstone's work upon Caubul. 

Note 307, p. 223. — It was too delicious. 

"As you enter at that Bazar, without the gate of 
Damascus, you see the Green Mosque, so called because 
it hath a steeple faced with green glazed bricks, which 
render it very resplendent; it is covered at top with a 
pavilion of the same stuff. The Turks say this mosque 
was m.ade in that place, because Mahomet being come so 
far, would not enter the town, saying it was too deli- 
cious. ' ' — Thevenot. 

This reminds one of the following pretty passage in 



NOTES. 309 

Isaac Walton: — "When I sat last on this primrose bank, 
and looked down these meadows, I thought of them as 
Charles the Emperor did of the city of Florence, 'that 
they were too pleasant to be looked on, but only on holi- 
days.' " 

Note 308, p. 223. — The Sultana Nourmahal the Light 
of the Haram. 

Nourmahal signifies Light of the Haram. She was 
afterwards called Nourjehan, or the Light of the World. 

Note 309, p. 223. — The small shining fishes of which 
she was so fond. 
See Note 274, p. 309. 

Note 3io,"p. 223. — Haroun-al-Raschid and his fair mis- 
tress Marida. 

"Haroun-al-Raschid, cinquieme Khalife des Abassides 
s'etant un jour brouille avec une de ses maitresses nom- 
mee Maridah, qu'il aimoit cependant jusqu'a I'exces, 
et cette misintelligence ayant deja dure quelque tems, 
commencaas'ennuyer. Giafar Barmaki, sonfavori, qui 
s'en apercut, commande a Abbas-ben-Ahnaf, excellent 
poete de ce tems-la, de composer quelques vers sur le sujet 
de cette brouillerie. Ce poete executa I'ordrede Giafar, 
qui fit chanter ces vers par Moussali en presence du Kha- 
life, et ce prince f ut tellement touche de la tendresse des 
vers du poetre et de la douceur de la voix de musicien, 
qu'il alia aussit totrouver Maridah, et fit sa paix avec 
elle."— -D'Herbelot. 

Note 311, p. 224.— With its roses the brightest that 
earth ever gave. 

"The rose of Kashmire, for its brilliancy and delicacy 
of odor, has long been proverbial in the East." — Forster. 

Note 312, p. 224. — Round the waist of some fair Indian 
dancer is ringing. 

"Tied round her waist the zone of bells, that sounded 
with ravishing melody." — Song of Jayadeva. 

Note 313, p. 225. — The young aspen-trees. 

"The little isles in the lake of Cachemire are set with 
arbors and large-leaved aspen-trees, slender and tall." — 
Bernier. 



310 NOTES. 

Note 314, p. 225.— Shines in through the mountainous 
portal that opes. 

"The Tuckt Suliman, the name bestowed by the Ma- 
hommetans on this hill, forms one side of a grand portal 
to the lake." — Forster. 

Note 315, p. 226. — The Valley holds its Feast of Roses. 

"The Feast of Roses continues the whole time of their 
remaining in bloom." (See Pietro de la Valle.) 

Note 316, p. 226. — The Flow'ret of a hundred leaves. 

"Gul sad berk, the Rose of a hundred leaves. I be- 
lieve a particular species. ' ' — Ouseley. 

Note 317, p. 226. — Behind the palms of Baramoule. — 
Bernier. 

Note 318, p. 226. — On Bela's hills is less alive. 

A place mentioned in the Toozek Jehangeery, or 
Memoirs of Jehan-Guire, where there is an account of 
the beds of saffron-flowers about Cashmere. 

Note 319, p. 227. — Sung from his lighted gallery. 

"It is the custom among the women to employ the 
Maazeen to chant from the gallery of the nearest min- 
aret, which on that occasion is illuminated, and the 
women assembled at the house respond at intervals with 
a ziraleet or joyous chorus." — Russel. 

Note 320, p. 227. — From gardens, where the silken 
swing. 

"The swing is a favorite pastime in the East, as pro- 
moting a circulation of air, extremely refreshing in those 
sultry climates." — Richardson. 

' 'The swings are adorned with festoons. This pastime 
is accompanied with the music of voices and of instru- 
ments, hired by the masters of the swings." — Thevenot. 

Note 321, p. 227. — Among the tents that line the way. 

"At the keeping of the Feast of Roses we beheld an 
infinite number of tents pitched, with such a crowd of 
men, women, boys, and girls, with music, dances," etc., 
etc. — Herbert. 

Note 322, p. 228. — An answer in song to the kiss of 
each wave. 

"An old commentator of the Chou-King says, the 
ancients having remarked that a current of water made 



NOTES. 311 

some of the stones near its bank send forth a sound, 
they detached some of them, and being charmed with 
the delightful sound they emitted, constructed King or 
musicaHnstruments of them." — Grosier. 

This miraculous quality has been attributed also to 
the shore of Attica. "Hujus littus, ait Capella, concen- 
tum musicum illisis terrse undis reddere, quod propter 
tantum eruditionis vim puto pictum." — Ludov^ Vives in 
Augustin de Civitat. Dei lib. xviii. c. 8. 

Note 323, p. 228. — So felt the magnificent Son of 
Acbar. 

Jehan-Guire was the son of the Great Acbar. 

Note 324, p. 230. — Yet playful as Peris justloos'd from 
their cages. 

In the wars of the Dives with the Peris, whenever the 
former took the latter prisoners, "they shut them up in 
iron cages, and hung them on the highest trees. Here 
they were visited by their companions, who brought 
them the choicest odors." — Richardson. 

Note 325, p. 231. — Of the flowers of this planet — 
though treasures were there. 

In the Malay language the same word signifies women 
and flowers. 

Note 326, p. 231. — He saw that City of Delight. 
The capital of Shadukiam. See note 195, p, 294. 

Note 327, p. 232. — He sits, with flow'rets fetter 'd 
round. 

See the representation of the Eastern Cupid, pinioned 
closely round with wreaths of flowers, in Picart's Cere- 
monies Religieuses, 

Note 328, p. 232. — Lose all their glory when he flies. 

"Among the birds of Tonquinisa species of goldfinch, 
which sings so melodiously that it is called the Celestial 
Bird. Its wings, when it is perched, appear variegated 
with beautiful "colors, but when it flies they lose all their 
splendor. ' ' — Grosier. 

Note 329, p. 233. — Whose pinion knows no resting- 
place. 

"As these birds on the Bosphorus are never known to 



312 NOTES. 

rest, they are called by the French 'lesames damnees.' " 
— Dalloway. 

Note 330, p. 233. — If there his darling rose is not. 

"You may place a hundred handfuls of fragrant herbs 
and flowers before the nightingale, yet he wishes not, in 
his constant heart, for more than the sweet breath of his 
beloved rose." — Jami. 

Note 331, p. 234. — From the great Mantra, which 
around. 

"He is said to have found the great Mantra, spell or 
talisman, through which he ruled over the elements and 
spirits of all denominations." — Wilford. 

Note 332, p. 234.— To the golden gems of Afric. 

"The gold jewels of Jinnie, which are called by the 
Arabs El Herrez, from the supposed charm they con- 
tain," — Jackson. 

Note 333, p. 234. — To keep him from the Siltim's harm. 

"A demon, supposed to haunt woods, etc., in a human 
shape. " — Richardson. 

Note 334, p. 234.— Her Selim's smile to Nourmahal. 

The name of Jehan-Guire before his accession to the 
throne. 

Note 335. p. 235. — Anemones and Seas of Gold. 

"Hemasagara, or the Sea of Gold, with flowers of the 
brightest gold color."— Sir W. Jones. 

Note 336, p. 236. — The buds on Camadeva's quiver. 

"This tree (the Nagacesara) is one of the most delight- 
ful on earth, and the delicious odor of its blossoms justly 
gives them a place in the quiver of Camadeva, or the 
God of Love." — Id. 

Note 337, p. 236. — Is call'd the Mistress of the Night. 

"The Malayans style the tuberose (Polianthes tuber- 
osa) Sandal Malam, or the Mistress of the Night." — Pen- 
nant. 

Note 338, p. 236. — That wander through Zamara's 
stades. 

The people of the Batta country in Sumatra (of which 
Zamara is one of the ancient names), "when not engaged 
in war, lead an idle, inactive life, passing the day in play- 



NOTES. 313 

ing on a kind of flute, crowned with garlands of flow- 
ers, among which the globe-amaranthus, a native of the 
country, mostly prevails." — Marsden. 

Note 339, p. 236. — From the divine Amrita tree. 

"The largest and richest sort (of the Jambu, or rose- 
apple) is called Amrita, or immortal, and the mytholo- 
gists of Tibet apply the same word to a celestial tree, 
bearing ambrosial fruit." — Sir W. Jones. 

Note 340, p. 236. — Down to the basil tuft, that waves. 

Sweet basil, called Rayhan in Persia, and generally 
found in churchyards. 

"The women in Egypt go, at least two days in the 
week, to pray and weep at the sepulchres of the dead : 
and the custom then is to throw upon the tombs a sort 
of herb, which the Arabs call rihan, and which is our 
sweet basil." — Maillet, Lett. 10. 

Note 341, p. 236. — To scent the desert and the dead. 
"In the Great Desert are found many stalks of laven- 
der and rosemary." — Asiatic Researchers. 

Note 342, p. 237. — That blooms on a leafless bough. 
"The almond-tree, with white flowers, blossoms on 
the bare branches." — Hasselquist. 

Note 343, p. 238. — Inhabit the mountain-herb, that 
dyes. 

An herb on Mount Libanus, which is said to communi- 
cate a yellow golden hue to the teeth of the goats and 
other animals that graze upon it. 

Niebuhr thinks this may be the herb which the East- 
ern alchymists look to as a means of making gold. 
"Most of those alchymical enthusiasts think themselves 
sure of success, if they could but find out the herb which 
gilds the teeth and gives a yellow color to the flesh of 
the sheep that eat it. Even the oil of this plant must be 
of a golden color. It is called Haschischat ed dab." 

Father Jerom Dandini, however, asserts that the teeth 
of the goats at Mount Libanus are of a silver color; and 
adds, "This confirms to me that which I observed in 
Candia: to wit, that the animals that live on Mount Ida 
eat a certain herb which renders their teeth of a golden 
color; which, according to my judgment, cannot other- 



314 NOTES. 

wise proceed than from the mines which are under 
ground." — Dandini's Voyage to Mount Libanus. 

Note 344, p. 238. — Of Azab blew, was full of scents. 
The myrrh country. 

Note 345, p. 238. — Where Love himself, of old, lay 
sleeping. 

"This idea (of deities living in shells) was not unknown 
to the Greeks, who represent the young Nerites, one of 
the Cupids, as living in shells on the shores of the Red 
Sea."— Wilford. 

Note 346. p. 239. — From Chindara's warbling fount I 
come. 

"A fabulous fountain, where instruments are said to 
be constantly playing." — Richardson. 

Note 347, p. 240. — The cinnamon-seed from grove to 
grove. 

"The Pompadour pigeon is the species, which, by car- 
rying the fruit of the cinnamon to different places, is a 
great disseminator of this valuable tree. ' ' (See Brown's 
Illustr. Tab. 19.) 

Note 348, p. 240. — The past, the present, and future 
of pleasure. 

"Whenever our pleasure arises from a succession of 
sounds, it is a perception of a complicated nature, made 
up of a sensation of the present sound or note, and an 
idea or remembrance of the foregoing, while their mixt- 
ure and concurrence produce such a mysterious delight, 
as neither could have produced alone. And it is often 
heightened by an anticipation of the succeeding notes. 
Thus Sense, Memory, and Imagination are conjunct- 
ively employed. — Gerrard on Taste. 

This is exactly the Epicurean theory of Pleasure, as 
explained by Cicero: — "Quocirca corpus gaudere tamdiu, 
dum prsesentem sentiat voluptatem: animum et prse- 
'Sentem percipere paritercum corpore, et prospicere ven- 
ientem, nee prseteritam prasterfluere sinere." 

Madame de Stael accounts upon the same principle 
for the gratification we derive from rhyme: — "Elle est 
I'image del'esperance et du souvenir. Un son nous fait 
desirer celui qui doit lui repondre, et quand le second 



NOTES. 315 

retentit il nous rappelle celui qui vient de nous echap- 
per. 

Note 349, p. 240. — Whose glimpses are again with- 
drawn. 

"The Persians have two mornings, the Soobhi Kazim 
and the Soobhi Sadig, the false and the real daybreak. 
They account for this phenomenon in a most whimsical 
manner. They say that as the sun rises from behind 
the Kohl Qaf (Mount Caucacus), it passes a hole perfor- 
ated through that mountain, and that darting its rays 
through, it is the cause of the Soobhi Kazim, or this tem- 
porary appearance of daybreak. As it ascends, the earth 
is again veiled in darkness, until the sun rises above the 
mountain and brings with it the Soobhi Sadig, or real 
morning. ' '—Scott Waring. He thinks Milton may allude 
to this, when he says : 

"Ere the blabbing Eastern scout, 
The nice morn, on the Indian steep 
From her cabin 'd loop-hole peep." 

Note 350, p. 241. — In his magnificent Shalimar. 

"In the center of the plain, as it approaches the Lake, 
one of the Delhi Emperors, I believe Shah Jehan, con- 
structed a spacious garden called the Shalimar, which is 
abundantly stored with fruit-trees and flowering shrubs. 
Some of the rivulets which intersect the plain are led into 
a canal at the back of the garden, and flowing through 
its center, or occasionally thrown into a variety of water- 
works, compose the chief beauty of the Shalimar. To 
decorate this spot, the Mogul prmces of India have dis- 
played an equal magnificence and taste; especially 
Jehan Gheer, who, with the enchanting Noor Mahl, made 
Kashmire his usual residence during the summer 
months. On arches thrown over the canal are erected, 
at equal distances, four or five suites of apartments, each 
consisting of a saloon, with four rooms at the angles, 
where the followers of the court attend, and the servants 
prepare sherbets, coffee and the hookah. The frame of 
the doors of the principal saloon is composed of pieces of 
a stone of a black color, streaked with yellow lines, and 
of a closer grain and higher polish than porphyry. They 
were taken, it is said, from a Hindoo temple, by one of 



316 NOTES. 

the Mogul princes, and are esteemed of great value." — 
Forster. 

Note 351, p. 241. — Of beauty from its founts and 
streams. 

"The waters of Cachemir are the most renowned from 
its being supposed that the Cachemirians are indebted 
for their beauty to them." — Ali Zezdi. 

Note 352. p. 241. — Singing in gardens of the South. 

"From him I received the following little Gazzel, or 
Love Song, the notes of which he committed to paper 
from the voice of one of those singing girls of Cashmere, 
who wander from that delightful valley over the various 
parts of India." — Persian Miscellanies. 

Note 353, p. 242. — Delicate as the roses there. 

"The roses of the Jinan Nile, or the Garden of the 
Nile (attached to the Emperor of Marocco's palace), are 
unequaled, and mattresses are made of their leaves for 
the men of rank to recline upon." — Jackson. 

Note 354, p. 242. — With Paphian diamonds in their 
locks. 

"On the side of a mountain near Paphos there is a cav- 
ern which produces the most beautiful rock-crystal. On 
account of its brilliancy it has been called the Paphian 
diamond. ' ' — Mariti. 

Note 355, p. 242. — On the gold meads of Candahar. 

"There IS a part of Candahar, called Peria, or Fairy 
Land." — Thevenot. In some of those countries to the 
north of India, vegetable gold is supposed to be pro- 
duced. 

Note 356, p. 242. — Had been by magic all set flying. 

"These are the butterflies which are called in the 
Chinese language Flying Leaves. Some of them have 
such shining colors, and are so variegated, that they 
may be called flying flowers ; and indeed, they are always 
produced in the finest flower-gardens." — Dunn. 

Note 357, p. 243. — The features of young Arab maids. 

"The Arabian women wear black masks with little 
clasps prettily ordered." — Carreri. Niebuhr mentions 
their showing but one eye in conversation. 



NOTES. 317 

Note 358, p. 243. — On Casbin's hills. 

"The golden grapes of Casbin." — Description of 
Persia. 

Note 359, p, 243. — And sunniest apples that Caubul. 

"The fruits exported from Caubul are apples, pears, 
pomegranates," etc. — Elphinstone. 

Note 360, p. 243. — In all its thousand gardens bears. 

"We sat down under a tree, listened to the birds, and 
talked with the son of our Mehmaundar about our 
country and Caubul, of which he gave an enchanting 
account: that city and its 100,000 gardens," etc. — Id. 

Note 361, p. 243. — Malaya's nectar'd mangusteen. 

"The mangusteen, the most delicate fruit in the 
world; the pride of the Malay Islands." — Marsden. 

Note 362, p. 243. — Seed of the Sun, from Iran's land. 

"A delicious kind of apricot, called by the Persians 
Tokm-ek-shems, signifying sun's seed." — Description of 
Persia. 

Note 363, p. 243. — With rich conserve of Visna cher- 
ries. 

"Sweetmeats, in a crystal cup, consisting of rose- 
leaves in conserve, with lemon of Visa cherry, orange- 
flowers," etc., — Russel. 

Note 364, p. 243. — Feed on in Erac's rocky dells. 

"Antelopes, cropping the fresh berries of Erac." — The 
Moallakat, Poem of Tarafa. 

Note 365, p. 243. — And urns of porcelain from that isle. 

Mauri-ga-Sima, an island near Formosa, supposed to 
have been sunk in the sea for the crimes of its inhabi- 
tants. The vessels which the fishermen and divers bring 
■up from it are sold at an immense price in China and 
Japan. (See Kaempfer.) 

Note 366, p. 243— Amber RosoUi. 

Persian Tales. 

Note 367, p. 243. — From vineyards of the Green-Sea 
gushing. 

The white wine of Rishma. 

Note 368, p. 244. — Offered a city's wealth. 

"The King of Zeilan is said to have the very finest 
ruby that was ever seen. Kublai-Khan sent and offered 



318 NOTES. 

the value of a city for it, but the King answered he 
would not give it for the treasure of the world."— Marco 
Polo. 

Note 369, p. 244. — Upon a rosy lotus wreath. 

The Indians feign that Cupid was first seen floating 
down the Ganges on the Nymphoea Nelumbo. (See 
Pennant. ) 

Note 370, p. 244. — When warm, they rise from Teflis* 
brooks. 

Teflis is celebrated for its natural warm baths. (See 
Ebn Haukal. ) 

Note 371, p. 244. — Of a syrinda. 

"The Indian Syrinda, or guitar." — Symez. 

Note 372, p. 245. — It is this, it is this. 

"Around the exterior of the Dewan Khafs (a building 
of Shah Allum's), in the cornice are the following lines 
in letters of gold upon a ground of white marble: — "If 
there be a paradise upon earth, it is this, it is this." — 
Franklin. 

Note 373, p. 245. — As the flower of the Amra just op'd 
by a bee. 

"Delightful are the flowers of the Amra trees on the 
mountain-tops, while the murmuring bees pursue their 
voluptuous toil." — Song of Jayadeva. 

Note 374, p. 245. — And precious their tears as that rain 
from the sky. 

"The Nisan or drops of spring rain, which they believe 
to produce pearls if they fall into shells."— Richardson. 

Note 375, p. 245. — Who for wine of this earth left the 
fountains above. 

For an account of the share which wine had in the fall 
of the angels, see Mariti. 

Note 376, p. 246. — Of Israfil, the Angel, there. 

The Angel of Music. See note 293, p. 311. 

Note 377, p. 248. — When first 'tis by the lapwing 
found. 

The Hudhud, or Lapwing, is supposed to have the 
power of discovering water under ground. 

Note 378, p. 250. — Of her dream. 

See page 250. 



NOTES. 319 

Note 379, p. 250. — Like that painted porcelain. 

"The Chinese had formerly the art of painting on the 
side of porcelain vessels fish and other animals, which 
were only perceptible when the vessel was full of some 
liquid. They call this species Kia-tsin ; that is, azure is 
put in press, on account of the manner in which the 
azure is laid on."— "They are every now and then 
trying to recover the art of this magical painting, but to 
no purpose." — Dunn. 

Note 380, p. 252. — House of Azor. 

An eminent carver of idols, said in the Koran to be 
father to Abraham. "I have such a lovely idol as is not 
to be met with in the house of Azor." — Hafiz. 

Note 381, p. 252. — The Unequaled. 
Kachmire de Nazeer. — Forster. 

Note 382, p. 252. — Miraculous fountains. 

"The pardonable superstition of the sequestered in- 
habitants has multiplied the places of worship of Maha- 
deo, of Beshan, and of Brama. All Cashmere is holy 
land, and miraculous fountains abound." — Major Ken- 
nel's Memoirs of a Map of Hindostan. 

Jehan-Guire mentions "a fountain in Cashmere called 
Tirnagh, which signifies a snake; probably because 
some large snake had formerly been seen there." — 
"During the lifetime of my father, I went twice to this 
fountain, which is about twenty coss from the city of 
Cashmere. The vestiges of places of worship and sanc- 
tity are to be traced without number amongst the ruins 
and the caves which are interspersed in its neighbor- 
hood." — Toozek Jehangeery. Vide Asiat. Misc. vol, ii. 

There is another account of Cashmere by Abul-Fazil, 
the author of the Ayin-Acbaree, "who," says Major 
Rennel, "appears to have caught some of the enthusi- 
asm of the valley, by his description of the holy places 
in it." 

Note 383, p. 252.— Roofed with flowers. 

"On a standing roof of wood is laid a covering of fine 
earth, which shelters the building from the great quan- 
tity of snow that falls in the winter season. This fence 
communicates an equal warmth in winter, as a refresh- 
ing coolness in the summer season, when the tops of the 



320 NOTES. 

houses, which are planted with a variety of flowers, 
exhibit at a distance the spacious view of a beautifully 
chequered parterre. ' ' — Forster. 

Note 384, p. 253. — The triple-colored tortoise-shell of 
Pegu. 

"Two hundred slaves there are who have no other 
office than to hunt the woods and marshes for triple- 
colored tortoises for the King's Vivary. Of the shells of 
these also lanterns are made." — Vincent le Blane's 
Travels. 

Note 385, p. 253. — Like the meteors of the north as 
they are seen by those hunters. 

For a description of the Aurora Borealis as it appears 
to these hunters, vide Encyclopaedia. 

Note 386, p. 253. — Odoriferous wind. 

This wind, which is to blow from Syria Damascena, 
is, according to the Mahometans, one of the signs of the 
Last Day's approach. 

Another of the signs is, "Great distress in the woud, 
so that a man when he passes by another's grave snail 
say, 'Would to God I were in his place!' " — Sale s 
Preliminary Discourse. 

Note 387, p. 256. — As precious as the Cerulean Throne 
of Coolburga. 

"On Mahommed Shaw's return to Koolburga (the 
capial of Dekkan), he made a great festival, and 
mounted this throne with much pomp and magnificence, 
calling it Firozeh or Cerulean. I have heard some old 
persons, who saw the throne Firozeh in the reign of Sul- 
tan Mamood Bhamenee, describe it. They say that it 
was in length nine feet, and three in breadth: made of 
ebony, covered with plates of pure gold, and set with 
precious stones of immense value. Every prince of the 
house of Bhamenee, who possessed this throne, made a 
point of adding to it some rich stones; so that when, in 
the reign of Sultan Mamood, it was taken to pieces, to 
remove some of the jewels to be set in vases and cups, 
the jewelers valued it at one corore of 00ns (nearly four 
millions sterling). I learned also, that it was called Firo- 
zeh from being partly enameled of a sky-blue color, 
which was in time totally concealed by the number of 
jewels." — Ferishta. ^ ^ 







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